


Missing Scenes

by Shatterpath



Series: Sassy, Snarky, and Sexy [10]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Natasha Romanov, Body Image, Body Paint, Body Worship, Children, Date Night, Erotic Photography, Established Relationship, Fashion & Couture, Gen, Inspired by Twitter, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Movie Night, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, OT3, OT4, Other, Polyamory, Roleplay, Sassy, Sex Positive, Silly, Stegginatelli, Steggnelli, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, love has many forms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 26,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These will be small bits and pieces that fit into corners of my 'Sassy, Snarky and Sexy' Epic. Some may later be incorporated into larger narratives.</p><p>Warning that there will be some spoilers for later events in the Epic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Working Out

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hijacked another comment thread ("No!" gasps the universe in false shock. Yeah, yeah, shut up, you.) and joked about writing some missing scenes for my growing Epic and Comicbooklovergreen pretty much ordered me off to do so, because there MUST BE MORE STEGGNELLI!!!!
> 
> Oh how I've missed writing for a poly group! *smishes them*
> 
> Thank you, as always to Aryki and Ariestess for their ears, as well as my new pal, RainbowRiddler, who's been a ton of fun, and Comicbooklovergreen for completing the quadrangle of enabling enablers who enable.
> 
> (Edit on 6-3-15) As you will notice, there are also ficlets in this collection involving Natasha as the triad's emotional fourth, because that woman desperately needs a solid, supportive Pack! RainbowRiddler brilliantly dubbed them Stegginatelli.

With his hands still shaky at irregular intervals, there were still things Steve had trouble doing. But this one he could manage, body plank-straight, arms pumping effortlessly as he let his superserum-enhanced body do what it did best.

When he was left in peace anyway.

Any other fella would have at least grunted when the weight landed on his back, but Steve just held himself at full extension, enjoying those strong dancer's legs wrapped around his waist.

"Hi ho, Silver!" Angie crowed, voice rich with humor, yanking at his collar as though it were reins and Steve chuckled at her antics. Coiling, he abruptly leapt forward, making her squeal and nearly lose her seat. "Bad horsie!"

Now he laughed for real, still holding his pose as the woman squirmed around until she was laid out atop him perfectly mimicking his pose and Steve could get back to his pushups. She hummed to herself, a catchy little tune that he found himself moving in cadence too, breath barely starting to labor with his efforts. Frankly, the curve of her rear nestled into the small of his back was far more distracting than anything else at the moment. Determined to get in a solid workout despite the shenanigans of his other mate, Steve knuckled down, amused at the familiar rustle of paper that he knew was a script.

"How's this one going?"

"Boring. You ever change your mind about bein' Captain America, you let me know and I'm riding your coattails, Stallion."

The laughter almost made him give in, but he forced his knees to stay straight despite her heels digging in, and continued to pump his arms.

"Am I holding your career back?"

"Don't sass me," she said in a deceptively mild voice, arching her weight up to drop it on him, earning more amusement. A spell passed in easy quiet, Steve's body working tirelessly, Angie quite comfortable atop him, humming as she read through the lines on the pages in her hands.

"Well now, who needs the movie house with you two about," Peggy's rich voice suddenly purred and both of her beloved blue-eyes looked over with adoring smiles. "And you do give a girl ideas."

"Oh yeah?" Angie teased back, her voice a vibration down Steve's back like a shiver. "Well he's sure more comfy than those lousy poolside chairs."

"Gee thanks."

Rubbing the back of her head to his trickled those pale brown curls down his neck was another distraction to up the ante. Peggy's bare feet padded over so that she could give Angie's grinning face a loving caress. She would have dispensed with kisses, but the busy seesawing motion of Steve's powerful body would only clonk their skulls together. "Hmmm, how to manage this," Peggy mused out loud, as though she didn't have the solution already and her lovers grinned, Angie laying her open script over her mouth to cover hers, hazel-blue eyes big and liquid. "Really, that look should be illegal."

Just as he'd been expecting, Steve accepted Peggy's weight across his lower back as she straddled Angie's hips, hooking her feet around Steve's knees for leverage and her elbows against his shoulders.

"Hey, I'm studyin' here," Angie protested with a thrum of amusement and lust heavy in her voice. Steve glanced over as the script landed halfway across the room with a rustle and a thud.

"Oh dear, so sorry," Peggy mocked and he could clearly see Angie's mock sour look in his head.

"Who knew you were such a brat, English."

The ticklish shriek made Steve wince, but there was no escape for Angie, trapped in the cradle of Peggy's powerful legs and Steve's immovable back. "A brat you say?"

That did it, their wrestling threatening to topple Steve's tripod shape, but he relished the challenge of keeping his feet together, maneuvering the shifts in weight with nothing but his arms and a little twisting of his hips.

"You're mean and evil!"

Cackling like a bad cartoon villain, Peggy didn't let up and Angie cried out in a truly awful femme fatale voice.

"Oh help me, save me!"

Steve couldn't take it anymore, giving in to the pressure of Peggy's feet digging into the back of his knees and collapsing to the ground to crack up like a madman.

"Oh dear, I do believe we broke him," Peggy smirked, entirely pleased with herself and drinking up their mingled laughter.


	2. Food Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I am a sucker for flattery and a good prompt. Shocking, I know.
> 
> Peggy is affectionately exasperated that some days living with Angie and Steve is like having a house full of puppies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://shatterpath.tumblr.com/post/118779978773/cblgblog-ayrki-do-you-fondue-so-if-i  
> Do you…fondue?  
> ayrki: So if I challenged you or shatterpath to write a Stegginelli take on this, how much would you two to tell me to get fucked? Because I could totally see Steve being a cheeky shit and Peggy just slugging him in the arm and telling him to sod off.  
> cblgblog: Shatterpath IS looking for prompts. Just sayin. And I’m looking for Shatterpath to write more prompts. Almost scary how that works.  
> Me: I can’t say that Peggy’s facial expressions here don’t crack my shit up. And the fondue thing really does need to be added into the Epic. Besides, his being cheeky gives Angie the excuse to smack him in the head and Peggy to smile with a “thank you, darling.”

"You in the mood for some fondue?"

Really, the big idiot shouldn't be so charming and Peggy fought down an amused grin and continued to ignore his puppyish flirting. The house was empty and quiet, even Angie having wandered off somewhere, humming trailing in her wake.

"Come on, Pegs, just a little snack?"

Something brushed Peggy's ankle and the almost indiscernible flicker of her dark eyes took note of bare toes attached to a long leg tickling at her skin. Up her calf and over the curve of knee, the dexterous digits wandered over her thigh to creep under the edge of her loose shorts. Before she could playfully swat at him or make a prim comment, Angie soundlessly appeared and cuffed Steve sharply in the back of the head. Like a startled cat, he nearly jumped clean off the couch, alarm instantly gentling to wry amusement at the bossy, crossed-armed glare he was receiving from the smaller woman.

"Let her work, ya ape. If you're hungry, you know where the kitchen is."

Smugly pleased with herself, Angie sashayed away, the swish of those narrow hips a show both of her lovers appreciated fully. Then Steve fell back to his bored sulk on the couch, the very picture of boyish dejection.

Finally, Peggy had to laugh in delight, shaking her head at their antics.

"Darling, I really do need to get this done, but I feel I should tell you that you're being delightfully obtuse yet again."

That perked him up, the slouch straightening up. "Really?"

"Really, Steve? 'If you're hungry, you know where the kitchen is' and you're still sitting here?"

His bafflement was impossibly endearing and she sighed in adoring exasperation. "Dear, silly man, that was a blatant come on. Go play, won't you?"

Grinning now, Steve was up like a shot, rocking her head to the side with a quick hard kiss to the temple and raced after Angie. Despite truly being busy, Peggy paused for a long moment, reaching out to turn down the quiet tunes coming from the radio beside her. Sure enough, there were the patter of feet elsewhere in the house, Angie's squeal of reaction, a monster-movie roar, laughter echoing in the big house. Satisfied all was right in her world, Peggy turned the radio back up, a bit louder to cover the distant shenanigans, and let her darlings play.


	3. Trashin' the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-writing credit goes to RainbowRiddler for half the dialog! Obviously, our being left to our own devices in IM chat is a recipe for insanity. In fact, the dialog is a good 90% original to our chat, I merely filled in the actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: In my growing Epic AU, 'Sassy, Snarky and Sexy' Peggy falls in with the Jarvises far earlier and under completely different circumstances, hence a notable familiarity not present in 'Agent Carter'.)

"Dismount the banister!"

Sticking out her tongue at the aghast butler, Angie released her hold on the handrail on the second floor and laughed with delight as her compact body whipped down the slickly lacquered wood and into Steve's waiting arms. Spinning her around, the two of them laughed and laughed before giving a sour-faced Edwin their best puppy-dog pouts.

"Aww, but Daaaaad," Angie whined in mock disappointment where she hung around Steve's neck. The combined effect of the big, soulful blue eyes and sweet, earnest faces made even Edwin's prim outrage stumble.

"Really, how many children must we have in this household?" Catching sight of the raw, exposed square of wood on said banister, Edwin's glare narrowed and only then did the blue-eyes start to look sheepish. "And what have you done with the antique carved finial that should be atop this newel post, you miscreants?"

Angie snorted with amusement and squeaked when Steve gave her a sharp squeeze. "Well, ya see, I tried to pry it off gently, but the wooden peg in the middle snapped..."

"Again?" Edwin sighed wearily

"Hey," Angie protested merrily, "gotta keep my insides inside, Fancy!"

Failing miserably to contain his amusement, Steve chimed in, "Y'know, if you just put screws in those ugly things instead, I'd stop breakin' 'em."

The look he received could have curdled milk.

"Things were far quieter before you arrived, Sir."

Before Steve could reply, Angie was over his shoulder like a squirrel, yelling, "you're it!"

With a racket like a herd of wild horses they were off again and Edwin could only stare in stupefied amazement. Was this really the serious and earnest young man Mister Stark spoke of so highly? What a ruffian! And Miss Angie looked for any excuse to shed propriety, gallivanting about like a wild thing. Still, even his stuffy sensibilities could not deny the sheer delight in their shenanigans, laughter and squeals and mock threats echoing through the halls.

"Margaret, you might speak with your... wild dogs concerning the proper use of railings."

From the shadows she had been loitering in, Peggy pushed away from the wall and sauntered over. Her expression was that peculiar shade of deadpan that boded only mischief, as time and association had taught Edwin. 

"Be thankful Steve is at least making an effort at care. He is rather hard on furnishings when he gets... frisky."

It had been long enough that Edwin should have been expecting it, but nonetheless, he found himself flustered. "Eh, hem, yes. Quite."

A crash and a riot of laughter seemed to punctuate the conversation and Peggy's smile grew ever more feline and smug. "I promise to add it to the apology list for Howard. Along with the four headboards, that poor bureau and the chairs, mustn't forget those, and I really must add that lovely silk rope we stole from the living room curtains..."

That wry, faintly sour look widened her smile.

"Don't scowl so, Edwin. Steve is a very difficult man to restrain! We've yet to figure out a truly effective means of teaching him to wiggle out of restraints instead of relying on his strength."

"I'm quite certain I could have done without the sordid details of your romantic endeavors, Margaret."

"Don't be lewd." Peggy smirked with relish and Edwin merely shook his head, fighting a smile. The entire lot of them were wild, undisciplined and possibly half mad. He also knew that his and Anna's lives had been immeasurably brightened by them.

There was a sharp smacking noise and a laughing, "ow!" from Angie as Steve strode into view with her draped over the width of his shoulders, left arm threaded between her thighs to brace the small of her back for balance. 

"Hey, it's good practice, Ed," the larger man chuckled and gently mock-punched Edwin in the arm. "Even I never know when dexterity's gotta win over brute strength."

"An' Howie don't mind us breakin' stuff so long as English... err, Pegs here tells him about all the shenanigans in her smirky, double-speakin' spy stuff way."

Angie looked absurd and completely relaxed on her cat-like perch, chin cradled in a palm as she smiled at Edwin. The endearing expression was once more echoed in Steve, all the more boyish looking with his disheveled hair falling in his eyes. "Yeah, as long as we give Howard a laugh, he doesn't seem to give a good god damn if we destroy the whole house."

"Yeah, give him a laugh," Angie scoffed and the blue-eyes sniggered like naughty children caught with a nudie magazine.

"You may remember my employment under Mister stark. I am quite familiar with... subtext." 

And with Edwin's dry comment, they were off and braying again, Steve letting Angie slide to the floor where they could toddle off together. The impossibly sweet, fond look Peggy trailed after them made him smile in spite of himself. Catching the expression, Peggy went sly again.

"Subtext? Really? Is he even capable of such a thing?"

"Of course," Edwin automatically jumped to his employer's defense and then paused, frowning mightily in thought before deflating. "No. No, not at all."

At last, Peggy's rich, open laugh warmed the hall and she gave Edwin's forearm a brief squeeze of affection before padding off after her frisky lovers. But Peggy being Peggy, she had to leave a parting shot, half looking over her shoulder, red lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Oh, and their apologies for the coffee stains on the central staircase. Steve keeps startling Angie and neither of us are entirely certain if it's accidental any longer. No man that large should be that quiet."

Edwin looked over at the richly appointed and now poorly used carpet runner tacked elegantly to the hardwood stairs and sighed.


	4. Fast Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A benefit of modern day that Steggnelli was not expecting. A tasty one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not really happy with this ramble, I'm putting it up anyway and maybe I'll take another crack at it later.  
> As per the prompt:  
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/post/118846876870/ayrki-vintage-espionage-the-amount-of  
> vintage-espionage:  
> The amount of perfection in this photo alone literally makes my Southern California girl heart explode.  
> 1\. It’s Hayley Atwell  
> 2\. In California  
> 3\. Eating In-N-Out  
> 4\. Wearing red lipstick  
> On a side note: I know where that In-N-Out is and have actually sat in that same spot before eating my usual #2 lettuce and spread only, animal style  
> Gill: Okay shatterpath, let’s add this one to your list of prompts. We’ve already discussed how unfairly attractive Peggy most likely is whilst drunk, but I think Atwell just raised the bar.  
> Seconded. I prompt you to do a prompt. Promptly, if possible.  
> Cblg" Look who gets completely not-clever after writing 4 pages of fic. I shouldn’t be allowed to type in a public forum right now. But yeah. Prompt.

"Well, the weather certainly hasn't changed. Though the air smells terrible!"

"Shoulda been here in the eighties, Aunt Peggy! The air was so bad you could taste it."

Peggy wasn't happy with the moniker as the man was biologically significantly older than she, but tolerated it with fond exasperation. Besides, the time refugees were too caught up in their surroundings to really be paying attention to Tony as he drove along an endless stretch of concrete so wide and densely packed with small, frail looking vehicles that it was quite terrifying. And the speeds they moved at! And the sheer, overpowering NOISE of it all. The triad had started out sitting fairly normally enough, despite Peggy's complaining about the now-commonplace three-point seatbelts. 

"This is unseemly," she grumbled and kept yanking at the shoulder strap where it prodded endlessly at her generous bust. Steve just chuckled and reached forward from the rearmost bench seat to stroke her neck soothingly. 

"Come on now, it's no worse than being weighted down with gear in the field, right? All these straps and buckles."

"Darling, no one in the Commandoes had more odd straps and buckles than that outrageous set of colorful field gear you once pranced around in."

They chuckled even as Angie sulkingly added, "at least you two don't have this thing diggin' into yer damn neck. How do you do actually drive with these stupid things on?"

Tony and Pepper merely exchanged amused, exasperated looks.

The moment Grace finally exhausted herself fussing about being locked into a carseat and dropped off to sleep, Peggy had crawled into the rearmost seat of the bland, fancy SUV to squeeze in with her lovers.

None of them spoke much.

Angie kept herself glued to Steve's side, his thick arm across her better than the confining seatbelts they all hated, Peggy more restless, pressing herself to the glass and playing with the buttons that controlled the endless doohickies the new world was awash in. Huffing something dire-sounding, Peggy threw herself back into Steve's body hard enough that Angie felt it on the other side. He nuzzled first her dark head, wrapping his arm around her as well, before also kissing Angie's crown. They caressed his hands and leaned their heads back to kiss his jaw. It was all very adorable and spoke of the mental vulnerability they all felt, adrift in a world so impossibly changed.

Pepper remained respectfully quiet and stared Tony down when he desperately wanted to tease. Though even her deadliest glare couldn't keep his laughter quiet when the harsh gurgle of hunger growled from the backseat.

"Sorry," Steve murmured, as embarrassed as always at his metabolism. Luckily, salvation appeared on the horizon and Tony instantly began making his way to the right lane of the freeway.

"Perfect!"

As much fun as it would have been to watch his guests marvel at the modern drive-thru, he decided to give them a break as the restaurant was half empty. Peggy and Steve and Angie stared at the busy street the place fronted onto, cars streaming back and forth endlessly. 

"It smells good," Angie hedged reluctantly. "Reminds me of the automat."

That made Peggy smile warmly and squeeze her hand.

"The food smells good," Steve countered, not quite wrinkling up his nose. "But this patio stinks like a dock."

Pepper tried not to laugh, one hand over her lower face while she checked her phone. Peggy slid over and began asking more questions about the device while her lovers people watched and grew hungrier at the savory scents of things frying.

"All those cars in that line over there, I get it. They're gettin' food in their cars. That's brilliant, but it's gotta be messy. Can you imagine the mess?"

Angie's chatter was quiet, but so very welcome to her mates, a sign of normalcy they'd been craving. Steve doled out a squeeze and Peggy an adoring smile that clearly bolstered Angie's nerves and her voice slowly became more animated. And when a triumphant Tony burst onto the patio with a good-sized cardboard box in his arms, they all fell silent, first in disappointment, then in awe at the bounty within. First, the waxed paper cups their host said contained Coke, root beer and Seven-Up respectively. Then bags of frenched, fried potatoes that tasted as good as they smelled and a pile of burgers for twice their numbers, each heavy with cheese and vegetables. Steve was on his third before he slowed down, his face a comical state of bliss. Peggy started in on a second while Angie made short work of an impressive amount of the fries. The smells woke Grace and she happily ignored the unfamiliar surroundings and filched choice bits from her adults, charming Pepper and Tony as effortlessly.

Tony howled with laughter over the former waitress' horror at two dollars and forty-five cents for a cheeseburger and explained that it was actually a reasonable price for its quality. And while that little nugget of info made the triad pause, there was no way they were going to not stuff their faces.

"In and Out Burger can convert anyone, Pep, I told you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Menu: http://menu-information.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/2726652709_dff1854299.jpg current prices: http://www.fastfoodmenuprices.com/in-n-out-prices/


	5. Modern Fashion, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say clothes make the woman...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per more Tumblr dares!  
> http://shatterpath.tumblr.com/post/119219398503/ayrki-scififreak35-when-you-honestly  
> scififreak35:  
> When you honestly forget someone is hot because their character is often wearing unflattering clothes and hair and then you look at pictures of them as themselves and you’re like…oh.  
> Lyndsy Fonseca aka Angie Martinelli of Agent Carter  
> You know, it’s funny: Angie is adorable as fuck. She is pretty much a puppy personified and the cutest god damned thing on the show (and this show has Howard, Peggy, Jarvis, AND Dottie). And yet, you *know* Fonseca is gorgeous as hell, you know that ‘wow, holy shit’ has come out of your mouth more than once in relation to her. But you kind of forget.  
> God help them (and Peggy) if she ever ends up with a reason to be all dolled up on the show because ooooh boy. Peg’s in for a treat.  
> (Can I poke shatterpath or cblgblog to write that? Hell, if you want it modern set, I’ll trawl through Nikita and find you a bunch of glamour shots for your visual inspiration.)

There were many reasons to like the oddball family from the forties; they were warm and funny and curious and competent at what they knew, among other things. One of those other things was Angie's fascination with modern fashion, which Pepper was thrilled to indulge. After all, wasn't that best part of a billionaire boyfriend? Not to mention a CEO salary that would make most fortune 500 companies jealous. And now she had a new fashion partner who...

"How does it look?"

Who looked amazing.

A week ago, Pepper had sent the full-body scan Angie had reluctantly agreed to-- and squealed over the wash of blue light-- to her favorite designer and told said artisan to go wild. Surprisingly, that had let to this, a sleek, well-cut blue number that cut off mid-thigh and clung to the small-boned frame of the young woman. 

"Hey, will you look at that," Pepper teased and set aside her Starkpad that she'd been puttering on. "You've got muscles! And cleavage!"

Renata, the fashion genius that she was, merely chuckled and stood with her best client as they watched Angie preen and twist in front of the rack of mirrors. There was a little pucker of consternation between her brows Pepper couldn't quite make out.

"You don't like it," Renata remarked evenly and Angie didn't quite flinch.

"It's beautiful! And the color's somethin' else, and comfy too. And it's classy..."

Instantly, Renata's expression cleared. "Ah, I understand. Let's try something shall we? Strip it off and try..." her voice faded for a moment as she stepped into the adjacent workroom and returned with something else to toss it over. "That."

Angie willingly allowed the darkly-toned woman to unzip the blue dress before she went to chat with Pepper for a moment. 

"I think you may have underestimated the demure level of your friend here," the artist teased. "She has the eyes and the bearing of a dancer. I should have guessed from Jarvis' scan. Shame on me. Ah, here we go."

Without being asked, Renata went to her new client and carefully raised the zipper, mindful of the skin beneath. The fit wasn't perfect, but it was damn close and the color was darker rather than the rich true blue of the first piece, but the cut was far wilder and Angie was clearly torn between delight and sheepish embarrassment.

"More what you had in mind?"

At the razor edge of scandalous, the dress rode high on her thighs and flowed over her curves to twist into delicate straps leading to a complicated back panel in uniformly geometric shapes vaguely reminiscent of a ladder. The silky, slightly stretchy fabric was forgiving to the body it had not been originally designed to flatter, lay close enough to Angie's shape that only a highly trained eye would ever know it hadn't originally been made for her.

"I think I'm seein' why you insisted on the scandalous skivvies," Angie said thickly as she looked at herself in the mirrors. "Dunno if they're gonna like it or chase me off to cover up..."

It was less the shortness of the dress than how it clung to her hips and thighs, threatening to ride up and become truly scandalous. Renata fought down and chuckle and expertly tugged the fabric to sit better. "A good pair of sheer hose and you'll be fine. Pepper, dear, you did get this pretty thing a good pair of basic black heels I hope?"

"Do you take me for an amateur?"

Angie almost fretted at Pepper's haughty tone until she saw the smirk and was reassured. From their haul of the day came the basic blacks, the heel thin enough to make Angie teeter precariously and the crimson soles a naughty flash of color when she moved. 

"Well, fuck."

All three were startled at the expletive, flatly delivered from the doorway, all of them taking in Peggy's gobsmacked and lusty expression.

"Keep it," Renata laughed in delight. "If it survives the night, bring it and yourself back here and I'll tailor it. You gals have fun now!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty clear that there's more here to be done and said, but this was a good breaking point. ;)


	6. Modern Fashion, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, there was more to be said about the clothing....

"Hot damn!"

Angie giggled as she was willingly accosted by a very snappily dressed Steve, who swept her into a hug and growled playfully at her neck.

"You look like a million bucks, Brooklyn!"

"You clean up nice yourself, Stallion. Who knew green would work for you?"

"I know! Thought Tony was outta his mind."

The suit was well-cut from a rich, deep green and had a very subtle shine to it. The tie was a paler shade against the pale, goldenrod shirt to bring out the lighter tones in his hair and dark beard. The cut of the suit emphasized his glorious broad shouldered and narrow-waisted shape, the lean lines of lapel and tie adding to the effect. As there was no need to restrain her affections, Angie ran both hands over the crisp fabric, fiddling with the tie because she could and it made Steve's grin deepen. When he leaned in, she kissed him eagerly, murmuring against his lips, "I gotta say, I like how men's suits have changed over the years."

"Me too."

With an expert whirl, Steve spun Angie out to their mutual arm's length and reeled her back in again, her laughter accompanying the move. It may have been Peggy that taught him the basics, but it was all Angie who polished his serum-given grace.

"Glad I got in a little practice on these shoes so we could dance."

"Mmmmm, me too!"

"You're not scandalized by this dress?"

The slightly hesitant question made Steve laugh and give his smaller lover another long, lingering kiss. "Hell no. USO show, remember? I like this fabric, it feels nice."

"Yeah, well it'll be nicer later when you can take it off! C'mon, let's go show you off to Pegs, she's gonna drop her teeth over you. Almost tripped over herself when she saw this thing, thought she was gonna make me change, or drag me off ta the broom closet!"

"Can't say I blame her."

Through the classy club, the pair wound their way to the missing part of their whole. The Angie spotted her over by one of the bars, at the edge of a subtle pool of light and gestured with a smug grin.

"'Sides, you haven't seen that."

Red had always been Peggy Carter's color. It was one of the first things Steve had noticed with his improved senses after Project Rebirth. But this was glorious.

The sheath wasn't just red, but the color of blood, flowing from a bright jewel tone so intense it almost looked wet at the shoulders that gradually, subtly darkened as the crimson flowed down her voluptuous body, the tucks and wrinkles in the fabric like rivulets of vital fluids. Yet, somehow the visceral color only highlighted the rich tone of her skin, the russet darkness of her neatly styled tresses and the depths of her eyes. The slightly darker color of her painted mouth and nails and the simply-cut heeled shoes worked into the scheme perfectly. All in all, Steve was left as speechless as Angie had been earlier and she reached up to push on his chin as though to stop his gaping.

"I know," she chuckled knowingly and dragged him over. "And Darcy took pictures when she and Maria dropped the lady off earlier."

It wasn't just them openly admiring, Peggy's delighted smile deepening as her lovers approached, sliding an arm around Angie's waist and the free hand up Steve's chest to brush his jaw and feather up the hairs on the back of his head. He made no resistance to lean down into her kisses, echoing her touch with a hand on her hip, the other around Angie, who was all smiles. As promised by Tony, the staff made no note of them and several flickers of interest from the well-heeled crowd were just that, flickers.

"You look wonderful darling."

"Wow, you too, Peggy, damn."

"So eloquent. Might I steal you for a dance?"

"Hell yes!"

It was customary that they danced first, bodies close, lost in one another. It was an affirmation of heart to that very first dance they thought forever stolen from them and Angie would never hold that against either. A feeling of neglect had never been a problem for any of them, each bonded to one another in different ways. They found ways to interact as pairs, as singles, as all three together. Taking up Peggy's forgotten drink, Angie sipped and silently toasted them from her perch, happy with how the night had begun.


	7. Food Porn, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per Tumblr banter between cblgblog and myself:  
> Had fondue last night. Literally all I could think of was Peggy having sex with Steve, Angie, or both. I need help.  
> so… is this my next prompt?  
> Yes. Yes it is. :D :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8-14-15 to include Grace.

It was an ordinary day outside of the screaming snowstorm and even that was pretty damn normal for New York in December. 

"I have to say that I'm not at all used to this, despite spending far more time in miserable conditions than any sane Englishwoman should," Peggy laughed as she huddled beside Steve as he fumbled with his keys at the front door. His grin was warm in the cold.

"Hell, I grew up here and I'm not used to not gettin' my ass kicked by this!"

Laughing, they tumbled into the foyer, ignoring the spill of snow dragged in with them. Peggy only got her heavy knit cap off before Steve hauled her into his chest to be kissed senseless. Work had become a whole new different sort of difficult being around one another so much in a professional setting.

Then the sounds of merriment reached their ears and the kisses stopped.

"That is definitely more than the regular crowd."

Nodding agreement, Peggy joined Steve in stripping off their winter layers and headed for the noise. Unsurprisingly, the center of the merriment was the kitchen. Even less surprising was Angie as the bull's-eye of said merriment, knife held over her head like the Statue of Liberty's torch, expression comically prissy while her audience howled. When Peggy framed herself in the doorway, Steve her big shadow, the younger woman lit up like a blazing fire and chased away the last of the chill.

That open, sunny regard would never grow old, Peggy thought dazedly to herself, still as smitten as always by the little spitfire.

"Aaaaaand, right on cue!" Angie laughed and raised a bottle of what looked to be white wine at them. "Go get 'em, Gracie!"

It was every person they knew in New York, crammed into the big kitchen, smiles wide in delight to see the couple, their voices raised in a riot of welcome. Even Bucky lit up and Steve moved to hug him while Peggy approached Chester, who she didn't get to see nearly often enough. Grace was happy to be picked up by her mother and cradled in a loose hug between the two adults. She babbled on while they spoke quietly over her head, but quickly squirmed away to attack her father's leg. Steve never pictured himself warning his own child to not bite, but sure enough, he had to pry her off and give a gentle admonishment before he and Bucky smushed her between them.

In addition to the explosion of holiday decorations that made the mansion look like it was vying with Macy's, there were now streamers and balloons festooning the kitchen. A banner read, 'Happy missed birthdays, anniversary and Christmases.'

"It seemed only right," Edwin commented as he appeared with an honest-to-Abe silver tray with two tumblers of ice and amber spirits for the new arrivals.

"A toast," Howard crowed, leaping to his feet and glasses were raised. "To all of us here, together. Can't think of anything better."

No one called him out on the little bit of choke in his voice, but chorused, "cheers!"

Peggy made a special effort to raise her glass towards Angie, her smile loving, echoed on the sweet face. The blue eyes flickered over, smiling at Steve as well, his raised glass an echo of Peggy's gesture. They were all still figuring out their dynamics, but so far so good.

For a bit, conversation and catching up kept everyone busy, but eventually Peggy took note of the meal being prepared. A great steel bowl over the biggest pot in the house was boiling away merrily beneath it and Angie was pouring in a not insignificant quantity of the white wine toasted with earlier. Then Edwin brought out a tray from the refrigerator laden with heavy bowls of shredded cheese.

Howard dissolved into hysterical laughter over the sharp, deadpan glare his oldest friend leveled at him. "Fondue, Howard? Honestly?"

Angie's smirk of amusement was as rich as the sheepish grin and slow flush on Steve.


	8. Casting Couch, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A passing comment get Angie in pleasantly over her head.

The sheer volume of entertainment available was quite daunting and they'd leaned heavily on the eclectic, mismatched pseudo-family they'd fallen into to give them the best highlights as time had gone on. The best one had been the entire Disney collection over a matter of weeks, a perfect introduction to how sophisticated movies had come to look over time. From Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, familiar and welcome, to things like 101 Dalmatians where the changes started to become obvious, to Oliver and Company and its computer-made boxy cars to Lion King, to the introduction of something Tony gushed about called 'Pixar'. The quality of the realism had been a bit frightening at times, none of them willing to take a good look at the collection of toys too closely for a bit there, and the marvelous Wall-e, a family favorite, and though Wreck It Ralph looked wonderful it made no sense whatsoever to the whole family of them in its video game themes, but they were charmed by Big Hero 6 and it's sweeping science fiction that reminded them of their Stark-fueled surroundings.

That didn't even touch on the television and books and comics and poetry and the music. Oh the _music_! As eclectic and terrifying and wonderful as the crowded, noisy world they found themselves in, Angie ate up every tune anyone would recommend, ran the endless themed radio stations of the Internet, squirreled away ones that spoke to her in Jarvis' memory banks and the marvelous little playback machine Darcy had ensured she had and was told to guard with her life. With all it contained, Angie was in agreement with the other woman.

Though the Disney films certainly didn't explain the little gig chewing at the base of Angie's brain. Actually, she had no idea where it had come from. So much information had been poured into her head that much of it blurred together. Angie suspected the horrified and perversely interesting glimpses of modern pornography, though at least Tony had managed to track down some classier stuff that didn't make the three of them feel sorta violated just watching it. And it had sure led to a few crazy nights!

As bold as this era was, a look back made even Steve thankful that'd fallen in with Tony Stark because little could shock them after him. 

"What's eatin' you, Brooklyn?"

Startled to find she'd been pacing almost agitatedly, Angie stopped and nibbled her lip as she searched for words. There was no one better to talk this out with than Steve, because it would be him to get it out of her system. "I got this idea I can't get outta my head about all those auditions I went to and all the fatheads who only wanted a set of tits and an ass they could ogle and slap, and it still bugs me, but I could never get it outta my system, 'cause I had to play nice to hope that someday it would lead to a job and the stage, but there was a line I could never cross, but at the same time, there's... there's somethin' about it..."

"Angie, sweetheart, breathe."

Flushing with embarrassment, she fell silent, body language awkward and Steve immediately set aside his notebook and pencil to reach out and put big hands on her narrow hips. It only took a little tug for her to settle straddling his lap. 

"Okay, that sounds like fun. But I got a couple questions first."

Startled by the instant acquiescence, she nodded mutely.

"Firstly, no scumbag ever did anything untoward, did they?"

Really, that quietly threatening Captain America voice shouldn't be as sexy as it was and Angie shook her head. "Oh, there were always a few gropers, but I always talked my way out of it."

The dangerous flicker of rage across his face gave her a thrill, but that was the only reaction. Not so much of a twitch in his gentle touch on her hips and curled around the curve of her rear.

"Alright then. You should have a way to tell me you need to stop. If there's one thing I'm really sensitive about now, it's overstepping my bounds."

"Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Maybe Peggy's name? She's our safe zone, right?"

"Perfect. So you lookin' for sleazy or high class?"

"Wait, now?"

"Sure, why the hell not? You're in the mood, I know you and what you like to watch well enough to get a rough idea of what's runnin' around your pretty head, we got the afternoon to ourselves and Jarvis can help out, right Jarvis?"

"Certainly, sir. What may I assist with?"

"Go on, Ang."

"Umm... okay. Can maybe we use Natasha's dance studio? That's the right setting."

"I shall enquire, Miss Angie."

"Thanks, Fancy. If he can't get a yes, then just here is good. And, maybe a little... I dunno if I want to go completely sleazy."

"Just a little... theatrical?"

"Yeah, theatrical. That's perfect."

"Ok then!" With an affectionate swat to the butt, Steve got his girl standing and hopped up, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. "Good deal. Meet you down there in fifteenish? 'Less Natasha says no."

"Excuse me, Captain?"

"Shoot, Jarvis."

"Agent Romanoff has given her permission with the stipulation of, and I quote, 'she gets all the filthy details'."

Angie blushed and chuckled while Steve roared with laughter at his mission partner's familiar sass. "Done. Now, I got a few things to collect, so get movin', woman!"

A comment like that and the brisk slap to her rear would have had Angie seeing red in the past. But not from him. Nervous and flooded with giddy anticipation, she scampered off to paw through her sleek workout clothes, another thing from this new era she loved. Now what would add to the little game she had dropped herself into...


	9. Food Porn, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring on Sassy Steve!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8-14-15 to include Grace.

"This one's on me, English," Angie chuckled. "All the stories get a girl curious, y'know?"

And with that leading comment, there was no getting away from the story, no matter how Steve squirmed in embarrassment. Peggy kissed him on the cheek and murmured, "all yours, darling."

"Gee, thanks."

While Steve entertained the small crowd with the story of his jealous misunderstanding with Peggy, Howard and the fondue, the lady involved went to the stove to set her chin on Angie's shoulder. "Love you, darling," she murmured softly, for Angie's ears only, earning a warm grin.

"You too, Pegs. Think you can behave yourself with a knife? Those apples need to be bite-sized."

"Yes ma'am!"

Stealing a pinch of the finely shredded cheese got Peggy swiped at with the wet spoon and she grinned wickedly and tossed the shreds in her mouth, making a face at the dusty covering. Cracking up, Angie looked smug. "Serves ya right, ya brat. It's just corn starch, helps the wine mix with the solids, so the instructions tell me. So far, it seems like a really strange, thick cheese soup. But it started with garlic, so point in its favor there. Though rubbin' it over the pot is a new technique for me."

"Cheese, Nini? Pwease?" Grace begged, hanging from Angie's leg, her eyes big and soulful and that lower lip jutted out adorably. The puppyish hustling didn't fool her for a moment and Angie reached down to stroke the girl's head with a gentle hand.

"Baby girl, if you eat any more cheese, you're gonna burst! Not to mention be blocked up like rush hour traffic."

The warning meant nothing to Grace and her expression morphed to obstinate pouting. In full sulk, she stomped off and her female parents shared a long-suffering smirk. When Phillips' eyes dropped, Angie was ready with the warning spoon. 

"Grampa Chester, no. I will beat you with this spoon, I don't care what rank you retired with!"

Smirking evilly, Janet sassed, "old men are such saps for tiny children."

"And pretty faces!" Uncle Howard chimed in and swooped into tickle Grace out of her rising tantrum.

Expecting little more than a quiet night at home, Peggy was thrilled to set aside the normal weariness of a long day of us versus them and spend some time with her extended family. Steve's voice was like the comfort of a well-loved blanket as he spoke to the group listening raptly, while Angie and Edwin's voices murmured counterpoint over dinner. The drink was warm in her belly, the knife a familiar tool in her hand.

Soon the smells of warm cheese and wine mixed with holiday pine and warm bodies and the lingering hints of the storm outside. Several bowls of cubed bread and cooked waxy potatoes were set out and Edwin added a couple pears sliced neatly beside Peggy's apples. A couple shots of some strong smelling, fruity spirits and Angie was shifting the hot mass of semi-liquid cheese and the hot water beneath it over to the raised part of the counter where the group was clustered.

"See? Fondue," Howard cackled as he nearly splattered hot cheese all over Steve gesturing like a wild man.

Faking a prim look, Steve sniffed, "never on the first date."

They all laughed at that.

Angie was not as enamored of the apples in the hot cheese as Peggy and Grace were, but she nearly got into a fork dueling contest with Janet over the last few bites of pear. Steve stopped the glaring by stabbing the last two and racing out of the room with a belly laugh, Angie in hot pursuit.

"That's mine, ya ape!"

With a great, dramatic sigh of the put-upon, Peggy drained her tumbler and addressed her amused guests. "Do carry on, won't you? I'll go retrieve the children."

The all heard the shriek of Angie getting caught, the sound immediately drowned out by the collective laughter.


	10. Casting Couch, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder (because I confused MYSELF) that this is computer Jarvis, not our favorite butler. 
> 
> This is what I get for jumping around in time. *laughs*

Hemming and hawing over the stunning amount of clothing she'd collected-- a distinct advantage of being Pepper's shopping buddy-- Angie startled at Jarvis' voice.

"He's ready for you, ma'am."

"Eek! Is that the time? How the hell did half an hour go by?"

Wisely, Jarvis remained silent as he recognized a panicked redundant question from long experience. Grabbing the first thing she had laying atop the pile already thick on the bed, Angie ended up in lime green tights and a black leotard before slamming her feet into good shoes for this sort of work and snatching up her tap shoes. Fleeing like a sleek gazelle, she found the elevator waiting and it whisked her down to the correct level and she could race off to the waiting dance studio.

It was nearly dark inside, only a few lights in the dance area a dull, faintly sickly yellow-brown and a pair of scruffy leather shoes were crossed at the edge of one of the pools of light. But neither was the first thing she noticed. It was the now almost unknown reek of cigarette smoke trapped in a room. A tendril of it wafted from the big figure cloaked in the darkness that began to lighten as her eyes adjusted and it did more to sell the game than anything else.

"You the girl?" Growled a low, heavy Brooklyn accent sounding so little like Steve that she hesitated. "Yer late. So we're lookin' ta do Oklahoma. Go on, sweet thing, blow my socks off."

It was perfect. Angie knew the music like the inside of her eyelids and could dredge up the basics of the dancing from memory. All those years ago in the Saint James Theater had been such a joy to her, the upbeat music and complicated, whirling dancing pulling her in like the fictional tornado did to the Oklahoma territory all those years ago. She'd scrimped and saved to have the funds to buy a ticket as often as she could, though it would still take months every time. Luckily, there'd been a movie version of it made while the years had passed without them and she liked that just as much. Body memory could carry her away, a task without so much thought as heart and instinct. Good thing too, for the arrogant sprawl of the man in her life was a hell of a distraction. Even as she whipped out the ridiculous speech patterns of Ado Annie for 'I Cain't Say No', she was preparing for a few dance highlights from the ensemble moving the story forward with the iconic 'The Farmer and the Cowman'. And whatever else came to mind.

For those moments, nearly everything else faded away as she fell into the magic of the song and of the dance. Deep breath, controlled exhale, pay attention to the notes, watch your feet, Angie, feel every muscle bunch and flex with effort, with unfettered joy.

Abruptly, reality returned, the sound of her voice fading as she fell into an easy standing pose, chin up, breathing hard. Steve had leaned forward, the pool of light she occupied gleaming over his features. There was none of the sleazy role to him, blue eyes adoring, expression almost slack with admiration.

"Wow," he whispered and Angie preened with pleasure at the quiet praise. Clearing his throat abruptly, he straightened up and tried to pull the play persona around him again. Angie appreciated the effort, letting the game settle over her again. It was such a sleazy fantasy that it made her feel weird, but the easy acceptance was infinitely reassuring. 

"Yer good, kid," Steve drawled, voice lowered gruffly again, body language gone loose and arrogant. It shouldn't look as good as it did on him, but she knew the real man and let the illicit fantasy of the situation wash over her. In real life, he was acting the sort of pig that Angie would be happy to sic Peggy on. "But there's a lotta pretty songbirds up for the part. What makes you stand out?"

For a moment, the persona almost slipped as Steve briefly rolled his eyes at himself and Angie stifled a giggle. If he could fake this, so could she. With a shift of body langue she took on a coy, girlish persona, thinking of all those frivolous, sly women who'd beat her out for parts over the years. There was no shame here, she reminded herself, just a little sexy game with someone she loved and trusted, a little thrill of being something she wasn't.

After all, wasn't that what an actor was?

With a little roll in her hips, Angie toe-heeled over and Steve leaned back once again, body open and arrogantly lounging like a lion in the sun.

"Well, there must be some way I could make myself more memorable," she sassed quietly, trailing fingertips up his thigh. Dipping low to feel the heavy seam of the buttery soft second-hand jeans he had broken into his body contours, she relished the jump of heavy muscle in response to her touch. No matter how huge and powerful Steve was, he was a slave to the loving touch of the women he'd given his heart to. It was a mutual trust.

"Yeah, I bet we could think of somethin'."

The way his voice faltered into a near-squeak over the trail of her dexterous fingers over his fly made Angie grin wickedly. Havin' a sensitive fella was always a bonus and Steve was definitely that! That half animalistic, half playful growl she loved rumbled in his chest when her teasing fingers continued over his rippled belly and she abruptly straddled him.

"Yeah, I'm bettin' we can think of somethin' too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this ends here, I've been staring at this for too long and it's not going anywhere. So it cut off like this. Sorry!


	11. Food Porn, Part 3

So intent on evading Steve's huge, freakishly quiet bulk, Angie screamed like a movie femme-fatale when she was grabbed from behind, terror and adrenaline making her pulse race. But she knew the curvy, powerful frame rendering her immobile and sagged in relief.

" _Jesus Cristos_ , you scared me half ta death, English!"

Her yell was enough to make Steve round the nearby corner, his small grin turning positively movie-villain predatory. That expression, and the way that big body moved so quiet and smooth, always made Angie think of the big cats in the zoo in Central Park.

"I see you got her," he purred and reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a scrap of napkin and the two squares of pear, slightly browned with abuse now. "Whassamatter, kitten, you want this?"

Part of Angie and Peggy felt badly for anyone that only knew this man as Captain America, that slick, fake persona that was only a small part of him. Then again, anyone else might be really intimidated by this prowling, almost threatening behavior.

Angie's heart wasn't racing from fear.

"Shame," Steve mused quietly, toying with the little pieces of fruit. "I was lookin' forward to a sweet, juicy little snack."

The whorls of his artist's fingertips traced over Angie's trembling lower lip, smearing the juice and pulp though the faint sheen of saliva and the waxy slick of deeply pink lipstick. While his intense blue gaze held hers, Steve leaned in close, breathing warmly with her, Peggy's soft chuckle dark and throaty near her ear.

"Ya seem like you want somethin', there, sweetheart."

Ensnared in the unexpected, sensual game, Angie could only make a small sound of animal need. Lusty smile deepening, Steve traced his index finger, coated again in pear, over her sharp canine and incisors. His touch on her chin was feather-gentle, a reminder that this was only a love game as Steve was always so very aware of his great strength and size. A lick over his roving finger assured him that it wasn't fear that had Angie breathing like a jackrabbit!

"I might be persuaded to share."

In one smooth move, Steve pulled his hand away, popped the pieces of pear into his mouth to be briefly crushed and swooped in to ravage Angie's open mouth with a rough kiss. The taste of pear and the faint hint of cheese swirled between them, Angie's skull pressed back into Peggy's shoulder, her tongue tangling with his. Happy to range his big hands over his women, Steve touched freely, drinking up Peggy's high-pitched lusty giggle and Angie's moan. Slowly pulling away from the warmth and softness of the kiss, Steve licked the tip of Angie's nose as she dazedly opened her eyes, and he stepped back with an obnoxiously smug grin.

"See ya 'round, toots."

With a lazy salute and a swing in his step, Steve vanished back towards the party, chewing happily at the scraps of pear in his mouth.

"I dunno if I wanna chase him down and kill him, or climb him," Angie breathed and Peggy's laughter rang out. Turning the smaller woman around, she clung this time in a loving hug.

"I'll tell you what, darling. How about we check the pantry for a can of pears and plot our revenge together?"

"I like how you think, English!"


	12. Fast Food, the Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 40s trio further education through food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per cblgblog's dare: http://shatterpath.tumblr.com/post/120062297618/cblgblog-shatterpath-cblgblog  
> @HayleyAtwell: Skyscraper sundae. Well I DID got to the gym this morning…. #KCLove #Winsteads (x)  
> Me: *iz dead on the floor, laughing*  
> cblgblog: Oh shatterpath, I sense a sequel to your fast food story…
> 
> And so it began...

 

"I'm starved."

Chuckling, Peggy shielded her eyes and grinned up at him. "Darling, aren't you always?"

Growling playfully, he grabbed her in a walking embrace to monster at her neck, effortlessly walking backward while Peggy tried not to giggle. The effort was futile, the startling high-pitched sound of sensual delight still catching her non-family members by surprise. Echoing her mother, Grace reached around from the backpack and touched her parent's scalps and faces as they snuggled.

"Well, good timing then, Cap, because here we are," Tony said and gestured to a nearby building. "Looks like Angie beat us here and, awww, she made a friend. Well, my badass phone did anyway."

Sure enough, some kid in well-made togs that hung on him like a tent was deep in conversation over the small phone in Angie's hand, pointing to something on the crystal-clear screen. Clearly, she was excited and the blinding grin left the young man quite stunned. When Angie caught sight of her party, the delight deepened and she waved eagerly. Racing over to meet them halfway, she threw herself into the small gap between Steve and Peggy's larger bodies, tapping at the tiny device as quickly as she was speaking. "Look at this, guys! Didja know there are whole libraries turned into these tiny electronic pages? Even universities have done it. Whole libraries! There's even old newspapers in here! We're not ever gonna catch up, but if we gotta find somethin' specific, we can."

The stranger in the baggy clothes was completely disconcerted by the small knot of intimacy the hot chick he'd been trying to chat up made with the hot brunette and a buff guy bigger than he'd ever be. And the good-lookin' couple watching them indulgently? He would swear that was Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, but that was nuts... but was that a large medallion shape under the guy's shirt? Or maybe an arc reactor? Completely disconcerted and intimidated by even the possibility of being right, the kid dropped his skateboard and vanished down the street.

Angie was still chattering happily at her lovers, flicking through pages of information and tiny, short videos. "Sure, I ain't ever cared about nuclear physics, but I can read about it now! This is so amazing, I'll have to thank my new pal, Jody. Oh hey, he's gone."

Crestfallen, she looked around and Steve and Peggy traded a look before herding her at the restaurant.

"Come on, Doll, you can help me with choosing lunch."

"Steve, you'll eat anything anyone puts in front of ya."

"Not anything," he leered playfully and earned a swat on the chest that made all three laugh. 

In a aside, Pepper gave her boyfriend an exasperated look that made him smirk. 

"Tony, you could have shown her all those functions."

"Sure, but this is so much more entertaining."

Stepping out of the warmth of the day, the six were enveloped in air-conditioning and the smells of a well-kept diner environment. Steve immediately plucked Grace from her backpack for a quick hug and then let her down to do some exploring. Peggy was happy to shrug the pack off and give her waist and shoulders a rest.

"Stan's Diner," Tony announced in grandiose fashion. "Highly recommended for their food and milkshakes both. Don't think I haven't noticed your dairy weakness, Auntie Pegs. The next phase of your culinary education."

A waitress, heavily inked and pierced in contrast to her soda-jerk uniform, was delighted with such a big party on what was clearly a slow day. "Welcome! Just the five of you? Oh wait, six I see. Hiya cutie!"

Reaching down, the waitress patted Grace's head, the little girl staring in open wonder. A person with as much body modification as this one, had grown used to stares long ago and she took little note of half-heartedly disguised looks she garnered from the time-travelers. Tony, of course, found them all hilarious.

"We'll make this easy on you. Just bring us whatever makes you famous in quantities for about eight." A backhanded slap to Steve's arm made him jump and stop staring. "Gigantor here eats for three. And an obscenely huge milkshake. We'll walk it off."

"Sure thing."

The waitress led them to a booth and grabbed a chair, leaving them to settle in while she tried to decipher the strange, bossy man she would swear really was Tony Stark. The party passed the minutes laughingly berating Tony for his horrible manners, Angie still obsessing over her new toy and only adding the occasional comment. The shenanigans came to a quick halt as they all took in the gargantuan offering of sweet dairy the waitress clonked down onto the table. Half amused and half horrified, Tony scootched it over to Peggy, seated next to him.

"You did say obscene," Pepper chimed up dryly, accepting a handful of napkins and comically long straws from the waitress. "That thing looks like a vase I have in my office, only in glass instead of crystal."

"It does rather look like something one would present an enormous flower arrangement in."

Across the table, Steve reached out to scoop a bit of whipped cream off of the top, stealing several pieces of maraschino cherry that brightened the top of the monstrosity. Grace nearly climbed onto his shoulders chasing one of the sweets down. Peggy looked both scandalized and relieved, eyes narrowing when he grinned cheekily and did it again. Only this time, he lashed out and her head snapped back as he very accurately dabbed in onto the tip of her nose.

"No, no!" Angie berated as Peggy made a disgusted sound and reached to wipe it off. Sure enough, the phone was up, Angie's thumb dancing over the little icons on the screen. 

"You got the hang of that thing?" Tony teased and Angie stuck her tongue out at him. Steve coiled a long leg past Tony's to caress Peggy's leg with his toes, making ridiculous kissy faces at her. She merely glared flatly at him

"All I gotta do is touch the little picture of a camera and then aim this itsy-bitsy window on the back until what I want is on the screen, then tap the camera picture again. Yeah, I can do that."

Tony rolled his eyes and the others chuckled at Angie's customary sass.

"Say cheese, English "

Exasperated, Peggy rolled her eyes and instantly feigned a wide-eyed ingénue. The others behaved until the phone made an artificial shutter sound and Angie looked pleased at the snapshot that appeared on her screen. 

"There, a memory! And shows your pretty eyes."

They all admired the photo, embarrassing Peggy, who took it out on the chocolaty brute. As a group, they polished off the bulk of the treat before the waitress and a pair of helpers arrived to cover up the entire real estate of their crowded table in a ridiculous quantity of food. It was bad enough to drag over an adjacent table and Pepper shifted to sit beside Tony to make room. The classic diner fare was delicious and there was little conversation for a bit while they ate.

"So, did ya like it?"

It was amusing at how eager Tony was, as though their critique affected him personally. Finishing a mouthful of omelet, Angie cocked her head, stealing another sweet potato french fry from Steve's second plate he was steadily demolishing. "Sure, it's all tasty enough. Reminds of the stuff at the automat, though the food's better for sure."

Clearly disappointed with the blasé reaction, he looked to Peggy who shrugged. "Dear boy, I came from a lifetime of awful food, peaking out into terrible rationing. Everything in this era tastes better to me."

When he looked to Steve for an assist, the bigger man just smirked and paused in his gorging to sass, "I keep telling you, Tony. It was the 40s, not the Dark Ages."

Grace made a quiet sound of gluttonous pleasure as she chewed at a piece of patty melt, making the adults laugh.

"Well, at least junior here gets it," Tony mock sulked and they all laughed even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Infamous IMs that helped write this fic. Because I can.
> 
> Shatterpath: *mockingly swears and stamps*  
> RainbowRiddler: ??  
> Shatterpath: Cap'n Green has dared me to write a sequel to the Fast Food snippet to that Hayley pic  
> RainbowRiddler: Oh goodness  
> Shatterpath: i know, right? Teaching some of what they missed through food isn't at all a bad idea, though an old-fashioned diner won't impress them as much as Tony hopes. Angie: "It's like the Automat. Though the food's better for sure." Tony: "You don't like it?" Peggy: "dear boy, I came from a lifetime of poor food, peaking out into terrible rationing. Everything tastes better to me."  
> RainbowRiddler: He would be so heartbroken.  
> Shatterpath: Steve (for the hundredth time) "Tony, it was the 40s, not the Dark Ages."
> 
> RainbowRiddler: You could always make it to where Angie has familiarized herself with smartphones. And Peggy gets a dollop on her nose and Angie's all "say cheese English "  
> Shatterpath: Hayley's OTP might be cake, but apparently, Peggy's is milkshakes. If you think about it, little of today's touch-screen tech would be that hard to pick up, as long as they don't obsess how it works and there's always Jarvis to install and troubleshoot. And Angie couldn't give a crap how it works, she's fine with taking modern tech at face value  
> RainbowRiddler: yep  
> Shatterpath: "So all I gotta do is touch the little picture of a camera and then aim this itsy-bitsy window on the back until what I want is on the screen, then tap the camera picture again? Yeah, I can do that."  
> RainbowRiddler: *tap tap* .... *tap* *grin* "Say cheese English" And then Peggy would just make this face at her to be a butt. *smirk* *Tap*  
> Shatterpath: Steve is passingly curious about how it works, but willing to let it go, because he'll never catch up. Peggy wants to tear it apart, but doesn't dare.  
> RainbowRiddler: WAHAHAHA  
> Shatterpath: I can picture Steve making a ridiculous face, or playing footsie with Peggy trying to get a reaction after dabbing her nose in whipped cream. He can't get a rise out of her if she doesn't let him, of course  
> RainbowRiddler: BAHAHAHA  
> Shatterpath: *cracks up* OMG, I had an image of Angie fiddling with the StarkPhone and some geekboy sidling up to drool. "Hey is that the new 6.5? Man, I didn't know those were even out yet? Can it uber-sync ?I know that was supposed to be the next upgrade." "I have no idea. Tony just gave me the thing and the basic instructions." Said geekboy is completely confused and a bit consternated.  
> RainbowRiddler: I can imagine him trying to get on her good side after that if Tony is just giving her StarkTech  
> Shatterpath: while still thinking she's nuts. Cute as hell, but nuts. What's a function on a smartphone-type tech that we would be 'whatever' over, but Angie is thrilled to be taught?  
> RainbowRiddler: Hm......  
> Shatterpath: she probably understand GPS by now, because so many cars have it  
> RainbowRiddler: Uh. Well  
> Shatterpath: music maybe? Or would Tony have not overlooked that?  
> RainbowRiddler: Certainly music  
> Shatterpath: it could totally be an app. I know shit about these things, never held one in my life and rarely use my tablet. Hmm. The scanned in library collections could work  
> RainbowRiddler: Lemme scroll through some apps. The little games you play against other people. Google earth. Emojis. Youtube  
> Shatterpath: "Tony, you coulda shown her all that stuff." "Sure, but this is so much more entertaining."


	13. Drawn Out, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets itchy fingers and Peggy's happy to play along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per Ayrki's prompting, my brain piked up the thread of this idea this morning and spit this whole thing in an hour and half or so. If it's rough, that's on me. Now, I'm exhausted and need sleep!

Tony started it.

No one was shocked by that fact.

Though once Steve looked past the obvious sexual humor of the gift, they got him thinking. The women he shared his personal life with were all so different and he was always up for celebrating that. So he went back to his center, drinking up Peggy's intrigued smile and her lingering kisses before skipping out of the Avenger's Tower like a lovesick schoolboy. Angie was happy to take an afternoon with the rest of the pack and whoever else her charisma could drag into an outing. He'd get to her soon enough!

Sneaking out of the Tower in one of the various underground boltholes got his errand done pretty quickly and a solid lunch in his belly so that he could race home and gently tackle a giggling Peggy into the bed to be loved up until she was limp as a rag and nearly asleep. Perfect. Far from being tired, Steve washed his supplies and tenderly prodded at his wife until she reluctantly rolled over to present the glorious expanse of her back to him. For a bit, he merely trailed his fingertips over her skin, contemplating his plan, searching for a perfect compliment to her shape.

Finally, he pressed a kiss to the top her spine, her dark hair swept aside, and uncapped one of the little bottles. It was a pleasant blue, a shock of pure color against her dusky skin, evoking a small, lazy sound of protest.

"Cold."

"Sorry, Pegs. Jarvis, can you bump up the temperature in here a couple degrees?"

"Certainly sir."

"Thanks."

Choosing a brush, Steve fell into the artistic skills that had been such a welcome escape for him over the years. Even as a tiny boy he would scratch out shapes and shades, the chaotic city around him, the movement of birds and the strays prowling street and alley. Perfect. Happily, Steve worked blue and white across Peggy's shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to the twin stars of her scars before smearing them the yellow of sunshine. Over the sloping terrain of ribcage he transitioned to grays, harsh shapes of the sentinel buildings, creating an idealized cityscape free of smoke and soot and debris like a hodge-podge of the cites that raised them, faint shapes of Big Ben and Parliament beside the Chrysler Building and the Brooklyn Bridge. A river snaked over her waist and kidney to splay out over her sacrum and faded away over the rise of her buttocks, a dark path of deep blue and green and gray, speckled with bright reflections. When a soft snore reached his ears, Steve grinned and set to work detailing out his temporary masterpiece.

The buildings grew more detailed, pulsing with a life all their own in reflection of the strong, relaxed body they decorated. Streets slid amid the shadows, lined in the faint green hints of trees and brightly rainbow colors of awnings.

The burble of voices in the rooms beyond brought Steve out of his reverie to smile in satisfaction of the temporary masterpiece poured out over Peggy's glorious skin. Tossing everything onto a towel to be gathered up, he sat up and stretched like a cat, unsurprised to hear a curious scratch at the door.

"Can I come in?" Angie asked quietly and Peggy made a small sound of coming around half-awake. Steve set a hand on her rear to keep her from moving.

"Sure thing."

Casual in jeans and a yellow top, the smallest of their triad stepped in quietly, unfazed by their nakedness. Then she saw the colors and lit up in delight. "Wow. Steve, that's... that's amazing."

Patting his knee for her to sit, he gestured expansively at Peggy's relaxed body. "Only a little bit of an improvement on the existing canvas."

"Is it nice?" Peggy asked sleepily, squirming a bit to knock out some of the stiffness of being in one position for so long. From stillness to sudden movement was fascinating, the ripple of muscle beneath the colors, the shift of the buildings and sky and water. Steve was as fascinated as Angie, ideas flooding into his head to branch away from the static of landscape to things more whimsical to highlight the movement of body instead of unmoving paper or canvas.

"It's real nice, English. Shame you can't see it, since it's on your back and all. Can I touch?"

"Sure. It was never meant to last."

A millimeter from Peggy's familiar skin, Angie abruptly yanked her hand back. "Wait, wait. Hold on a sec! Don't anyone move!"

Fondly baffled, they did as ordered, Steve absently rubbing Peggy's thigh even as Angie raced back in with a fancy camera in her hands. It was nice to see something so recognizable.

"This thing is amazing. That tiny little thing was okay, same as the Starkphone, but I wanted something that worked like a real camera."

Peggy murmured faint protest as Angie jumped up to stand over her, Steve reaching around to steady the unstable footing before Angie stepped over her. The camera clicked, but Steve noted there was no whir of inner gears, no ratcheting of a wheel to move the film within and wondered if this was more high tech. When Angie fiddled with the device, staring at the back of it and muttering happily, he gathered that it probably was. Sure enough she proudly showed him the tiny television-like screen on the back of the camera, revealing a miniature picture of Peggy's painted back.

"Will you do me next?"

Laughing, Steve gave his smaller lover a squeeze, "you'd never sit still long enough, squirrel!"

When her face fell, Steve instantly felt badly and grabbed her to be swung against his chest for a hug.

"But, of course we'll give it a try, right?"

Half mollified, but still a bit stung by the dismissal, Angie cuddled for a moment, reaching out to touch Peggy, still laying patiently still. Her horrified gasp when her curious fingers smeared sky over building like a shattering dreamscape was not feigned.

"Oh no! I ruined it!"

"Angie, it's okay. This is meant to be temporary, just for the pleasure of doing it. You ready to get up, hot stuff?"

Lazily, Peggy shifted again, shoulders moving to prop her up, muscles shifting and flexing beneath the colors. "I'm afraid I'll have to truly ruin your work to get up."

"Ruin away, ladies."

As carefully as she could, Peggy stood and looked over her shoulder to smile at the edges of color and shape. Steve marveled at the tendrils of dark hair falling across the paint, incongruous against city and sky. "That was pleasantly relaxing, Steve, thank you."

The contrast of her familiar, bare front was a lovely shock after her transformed back and Steve was happy to lean back onto the bed while Angie went over to get wrapped up in a loving hug. They were so beautiful together that sometimes he almost felt like he was intruding, but like everything else about their arrangement, it was a matter of give and take. Still clearly conflicted about mussing the paint, Angie's hands fretted, finally coming to rest on Peggy's hips as they kissed and swayed together, a blend of skin and paint and fabric.

"Might I see the pictures?"

Dazed as always from the drugging kisses, Angie took a moment to shake herself out, accepting the camera being handed over by a smirking Steve. They poured over the shots while Steve lazily got up to gather the towels that had protected the bed and head into the massive bathroom and its decadently huge shower.

"And now for the fun part! The clean up!"

The women could hardly join him quickly enough, Angie's clothing shed and the paint running away as they bonded together once more.


	14. Drawn Out, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie wants a turn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out SO GREAT! Want a little sunshine and chaos in your writing? Invite Angie Martinelli into your brain.

It took a long time to get Angie quiet enough to lay out and give Steve a crack at her with his paints. A light meal-- calories made her hyper-- and an expertly mixed drink or two courtesy of a grinning Natasha-- because of course bartending was in her endless repertoire of skills-- and some giggling horseplay in the sheets where Steve had to remind Peggy to not use claws or she'd mess up his canvas, so she'd raked him instead, which was fine.

Leaving the women to cuddle, Steve stuck his head out of the bedroom and listened. No sound, but he had that sixth-sense tingle that meant his partner was still close by. So he padded out and found her curled up on the couch with some electronic device in her hands. Blue-green eyes took in and utterly disregarded his nakedness.

"Wanna watch?"

That got Natasha's interest piqued and she set aside the device to join him, Peggy and Angie murmuring hellos as their newest loved one joined them, sitting cross-legged on the pillows near them. Yes, they were still an unusual dynamic, but Natasha was slowly blooming in a safe environment she had control over with people she was learning to care about on her own terms. Sometimes it was like living with a feral cat, but they all trusted her to cause no harm and the slow changes warming her were glorious. When Steve exited the bathroom with his supplies, Angie had rolled to her side to crane her neck back onto Nat's thigh to chatter quietly at her while Peggy stretched out lazily, none of them caring in the slightest they were naked and showing the obvious signs of enthusiastic lovemaking. Sexuality had been reduced to something clinical for Nat and she was only interested in finding her sense of self, not sexual partners, a choice they all respected completely.

"Okay, superstar, let's take a crack at this, huh?"

That sunny grin flashed and Angie shifted to stretch out on her belly once more, wriggling with anticipation. 

"So much for being relaxed," Steve sighed dramatically and leaned over to press an open-mouthed kiss on the base of her neck where tiny hairs had escaped the messy bun of caramel-colored mane. "Stay."

"I'm not some dog you can, ouch! Steven!"

Sticking out his tongue at her outraged glare, Steve kissed the small pink spot he'd left on her pert ass while the other two chuckled. She usually barked at him for the swats, but soaked them up all the same. Steve was well aware that if he swatted too hard or at a bad time, she would read him the riot act. Loudly. So he refrained from a little nip as he might have done and merely flicked out a pair of towels to tuck against her sides to protect the bedding. Then he tuned out their soft voices to study his new workspace. All lean dancer's lines and slender muscles beneath a thin layer of feminine softness, she was pure elegance. Like his own skin, she was nearly unblemished, merely a few whitened flaws here and there from perfectly ordinary accidents over an ordinary life led by such a vivacious personality. She was their rock of normalcy, of song and story and good cooking and loving kindness in elegant contrast to a life too often insane. So she would get the wildest colors, the most freeform of lines and shape so that, today, it would be her time to be the most colorful and mad among their four.

Satisfied, Steve leaned over to his tray of paint jars and the pile of brushes to dabble his fingers in green, a brush in blue, and let his imagination go.

For a bit, all was well, lines and whorls and curlicues appearing over the small of Angie's back. Then the sodden bristles wandered into what turned out to be unexpected tickle-reflex territory and she squealed and torqued her body, laughing uproariously. In all honesty, Steve had gotten more done than he expected to and sighed in affectionate exasperation as she howled and squirmed. Peggy echoed the face he made, sitting up to kiss him leisurely.

"Poor boy, you knew this would happen."

"I did, but she begs so nicely."

"Mmm, that she does."

"'M sorry, I'm sorry," Angie laughed breathlessly where she sprawled out, twisting like a bug on a pin. "Just tickled so much!"

By unspoken agreement, her lovers bent over to kiss and nibble at her neck and shoulders, earning more squeals and laughter. Finally though, she managed to get a grip on herself and squirm away to bounce off to the bathroom and twist to see the colors. When she came back out, she was uncharacteristically subdued, making Steve pause in his cleaning up.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Torn for a moment, Angie broke and lunged over to curl up in his lap, flashing the bright colors at the other women. "I messed it up."

Exasperated and affectionate as they so often were, Steve hugged her tightly, earning a squeak, Peggy latching on and even Nat leaning over to pet her shoulder.

"Ang, you goose, you didn't ruin anything. This is just good fun, a chance to touch a different way. Your colors don't have to be on the outside, we see them every day."

"He's right, darling. And sitting still isn't your strength. There's nothing wrong with that."

It was Nat that spoke up last, her voice thoughtful. "You should move. Dance or pace or talk with your hands. Your energy is your dynamic and art will never catch you statically."

"Actually, Natasha, you nailed that right on the head," Steve marveled and grinned widely at his partner, who was pleased as they all twisted to press the red-head's cheeks with kisses. "Go on, Brooklyn. Dance."

When Angie oddly hesitated, it was Natasha who came to her rescue again, standing and bowing deeply while asking Jarvis to cue up Track Favorites Twelve. It flooded the room with music both bouncy and weird like classical mixed with the modern heavy dance thunder that the married couple didn't quite get but their dexterous songbird adored. And Natasha understood dance intimately, sweeping Angie up and swinging her into athletic twisting shapes of limbs and muscles, sinuous and free flowing. 

It was perfect.

Every few minutes, gleaming with the ecstasy of movement, Angie would whirl over to Steve, who would lean over and add a dab of color, a strip of brightness, a flash of chroma against her paleness. She came to life in a whole new way, as bright and dynamic as a pinwheel in a storm. And when, at last, she came to rest, body in a slight lean to enhance her slim shape, hands swept up to just touch above her head, she was a temporary sculpture of color and sensual lines, held there perfectly still, mouth curled in a secretive smile.

Peggy almost forgot to take a picture.


	15. Drawn Out, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in time as Natasha continues to learn more self-care and how to fit herself into the odd and wonderful family she's fallen into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, these body paint ideas have been hounding me, hence the rapid quantities of words pouring out. *swoons dramatically* Exhausting and wonderful...!

"You look bored, old man."

A smile curled Steve's mouth and he looked up at his partner where he was curled up in what was normally Angie's favorite perch at the great windows that looked over New York. 

"Well, I have to confess I'm not used to going stag very often."

Natasha didn't smile at the tease, but her eyes were calm and mildly amused and very intrigued. The embodiment of subtleties, she was always difficult to glean truths from, but Steve had gotten moderately good at it. When they met, all those months ago on the Shield helicarrier, she had been just another agent and pretty face. When she'd stood beside him against the Chitauri, she'd become a comrade in arms. With time and a constant stream of smaller missions, he'd come to rely on her like another limb. Effortlessly adaptable, efficient and excelling at everything she put her mind to, he'd grown to trust her and then like her.

He'd been a bit surprised when she seemed to cautiously like him back. Not just him, but his lovers as well, Angie's effortless charisma and even Peggy, who she'd feared so much early on. But it was no surprise that they liked her back, for there was something compelling about Natasha when a person took the effort of looking closely. Provided, of course, that she let the observer see anything personal, but Steve had noticed her doing that more and more, cumulating with crawling into his bed one night on a sting operation to huddle against his side, the faintest of tremors echoing along her compact body. In that gesture of trust, she'd found herself inexorably drawn into the Carter Clan. They were slowly becoming four instead of three with the addition of Natasha's quirky friendship and complicated needs. She wasn't a sexual partner at all, for she'd been manipulated that way too deeply, but she was desperately touch starved and slowly learned to love touches and cuddles, no matter how brief or drawn out.

Head tilted, she searched for a clue in his expression before bluntly asking, "do you want to paint me?"

It was an unexpected offer from the very private woman and Steve smiled slowly. "Sure, that'd great. Let me get my stuff."

Hopping up, Steve wandered into his small private room to rifle his supplies before wandering back to the living room to find Natasha gone. When he called out for her, there was a call back in the direction of the big bedroom and he headed there, curious now. It was only mildly surprising to see that Natasha had stripped naked and was waiting there patiently. Her eyes dropped to the watercolor set and small canvas in Steve's hands and a flash of disappointment ghosted across her face. Before she could speak up, he chuckled and moved to set the supplies down on a dresser.

"Oh, you were expecting the body paints! You got it. Hang on a sec, ok?"

"Ok."

He'd played this game often enough with his mates now that the body paint supplies had gotten their own kit stashed in a basket on a shelf in the oversized bathing room. More colors in larger quantities, better brushes, a whole set of towels just for this purpose, all of it came out once he'd soaked a couple washcloths.

"Do you want to lie down?"

She hesitated over the intimacy, relaxing when he grinned again.

"You're good where you're at. Well, you'll have to step a little closer, but let me get settled first."

It wasn't the first time Steve had seen Natasha naked, missions leaving them filthy and banged up, but this was definitely the longest look. She was sturdy and voluptuous like his Peggy, but lean and graceful like Angie's dancer's build, an interesting combination. When he gestured Nat to come closer, she did and he ran a wet square of cotton over her belly and breasts, giving her a little prod so he could reach her back, repeating the process over her back and the upper swell of buttocks. A quick dry off while he hummed under his breath and Steve looked over his collection of colors contemplatively.

It wouldn't occur to him later that she was only the third woman he'd ever touched so intimately.

"You in a particular color mood?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Impress me."

"You got it, pal."

Steve had always liked the contrast of her black and red, the colors of her uniform, of her mental ledger, lines of red and black in a balance sheet only she understood. So they became a starting point, heavy and ominous on her warm skin, like an approaching storm, fire reflected on night clouds. Quickly, he wanted something more positive and switched out to blues and oranges, searching out the lean contours of her, the bones of rib and hip and a whimsical elbow. Then a pale, icy blue to find and celebrate her unique details, the faint scars, the pucker of navel, the knotted remnant of a bullet tearing through her abdomen long ago.

It such a subtle shift in the near-silent speech of her body that Steve probably would have missed it completely had he not been only inches from her strong belly, plying a buttery yellow in geometric nonsense. 

"Hey, you ok?"

It alarmed him a bit when it took a moment for Natasha to blink and react to him, shrugging as though she hadn't a care in the world.

"I'm fine."

When Steve rested both big hands on her hips, Nat both flinched and leaned into the calm touch. There was only kindness and understanding and protection in those hands, she knew this better than nearly anyone, having fought by his side, guarded his back taken cover behind his shield. And suddenly, uncomfortably, Natasha didn't know what exactly she was feeling, still not sure how to process the complicated feelings this fascinating family caused in her.

"Nat? It's ok if you don't want to do this, if you've changed your mind or want to take a break or do something totally different."

When she subconsciously swayed closer, Steve gave a light tug so that she could step between his knees and settle onto his lap. Draping one hand low on her hip, the other barely resting on her knee, he was very careful to not box her in.

"You can say no. Anytime, about anything, and we'll respect that."

He'd said these sorts of soft words to her before, as had Peggy and Angie, gentle and calm. Little by little, they were sinking in past the horrific abuses she would never shake and could only build upon to become a more whole person with time and effort.

"And we'll still love you."

Later, Natasha was startled and gratified to wake briefly to find herself casually part of a big pile of nap, flecks of the colors dried on her skin strewn across all of them like stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, rambling at RainbowRiddler to the get this clear-ish in my head: oh, so lemme run a snippet idea by you. OT4. So, one day, Steve's bored and only Nat is around. She's pretty well in with her Pack now and notices he's toying with a paintbrush and offers to let him paint her. Being Nat, she has no modesty at ALL and strips. Steve doesn't think anything of it and pulls out his paints to see what pours out of his head. At one point, he notices some ridiculously subtle shift in her body language. Like if her boobs weren't on his forehead while he plied paint on her belly, he never would have picked it up and he asks her if she's ok with this. He ASKS her. And Nat gets all dismissive and evasive, because she didn't even realize she'd done it. Like, she's so used to being seen as a thing, she didn't even REALIZE. And he PICKED up on it, so he gets to sit in his lap and goes over the 'you're allowed to say no. We'll still love you' routine. Probably for the millionth time. This has been stuck in my head since Ayrki brought it up this morning


	16. The Bean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Howling Commandos speculate. And sass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When looking up 'bean' used in expressions, I found this entry and the rest is history.  
>  **full of beans**  
>  If someone is full of beans, then what they are saying is nonsense. It is used in polite conversation when you don't want to say 'full of shit'  
> (adj.) Energetic, lively.  
> Attested since the 1930s. A euphemistic form of full of shit.[1]  
> Adjective  
> full of beans (comparative more full of beans, superlative most full of beans)  
> (chiefly US, idiomatic) Incorrect; uninformed; exaggerating or expressing falsehood.

"Who the hell started 'The Bean' thing?"

Nonplussed at the question, the Howling Commandos looked to one another and collectively shrugged.

"Dunno," Dugan muttered thoughtfully, "but it suits any spawn of you and Carter."

Steve looked offended and the others laughed.

"Well, Carter certainly covered spilling the beans," Falsworth piped up and the group raised their glasses, getting into the spirit of the new game.

"And the kid's sure as hell gonna be fulla beans," Bucky teased, grinning widely at his best friend's sour look laced with amusement. "What, like I'm wrong?"

"Yeah, but the real question is that bean gonna be the polite fulla beans like energetic and lively," Gabe tossed out and Dugan jumped back in.

"Or just fulla shit?"

But it was Jacques that got in the last word, making the others roar with laughter with a simple, "duh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno why it amuses me that the Frenchman delivers that last line, particularly as he-- at least early on in the film-- clearly spoke little if any English.
> 
> Also, as a final footnote: I wrote this weeks ago but had to wait until I'd revealed the pregnancy in the larger narrative!


	17. Team Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: cblgblog: Hayley Atwell throwing out the first pitch prior to the game between the Cleveland Indians and Kansas City Royals, 6/2/15. shatterpath, I’ll give you a dollar if you do something with this. Peggy in baseball gear, it’s giving me feelings, yo.
> 
> Well, I couldn't resist that, now could I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual IMs: Shatterpath: so Green's (cblgblog) bribing me for Peggy in a baseball jersey fic  
> Ayrki: [grins] awesome  
> Shatterpath: I don't have the faintest idea what to do; but will probably have to go 'inspired by' rather than a more literal take on the pics. a) I know jack-shit about Kansas City. b) those pants are truly hideous, bless her heart  
> Ayrki: Nah, probably go something New York based.  
> Shatterpath: well there's the joke of the Brooklyn Dodgers. And possibly in JUST the jersey. Steve's of course, for the size of it. Just soft fabric and a LOT of leg  
> Ayrki: [laughs]
> 
> (Originally posted on Tumblr on 6-3-15)
> 
> Just replace the Kansas City marking with Brooklyn Dodgers markings, the colors are already accurate in the white jersey and blue cap. Imagination is a glorious thing!

Steve hated waking alone.

Though he couldn't complain about the view. A scratch of sound, bare feet and soft cloth encouraged him to crack an eyelid open, a pleased grin curling his mouth. She'd stolen his beloved jersey again, the loosely fitting white cotton with 'Brooklyn' written in such a distinctive shape across the chest hung on her voluptuous frame more like a very short dress than proper baseball wear. Her curves were hinted at beneath the snowy fabric like a peepshow not quite begun, the girls still behind the concealing curtain, though he was distracted by her legs. Obviously bare. her creamy skin flowed from the high-cut sides of the shirt to highlight her magnificent legs.

He was so caught up in ogling that he completely missed her noticing his stare until she plucked the matching hat off of the dresser and struck a pose with the blue cap on her head. "Do you like what you see, Darling?"

"Yeah, you're right. It looks better on you. Now c'mere so I can get it off ya!"


	18. Sassus Interuptus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Darcy's Twitter account
> 
> Or, 'How Darcy Lewis starts to think of ship names for all the sexy pairs and more in the Avengers Tower.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look forward to people adding their own sass to this. Share in the crack that possessed my brain!

NYC, I am in you!  
#nyc #soexcited

the view is crazy, seriously. No pictures though, because SECRETS. Alas.  
#youwishyouknew

I have napped and off to meet the crazy people that live here. Excited and nervous. If ibring them coffee, you think they'll like me better?  
#toomuchhot #sexyroommates #reallifefanfic

Eeep! Meeting the BigBoss!  
#werewoolf

this building has the coolest butler ever! It's like his everywhere *cue dramatic music*  
#buildingbutler

my new Big Boss is amazing and gorgeous and smart and i might want to be her when I grow up  
#glee #flail #womenbeingbamf

IT's not fair! The's so so much hot here.

There's*  
#damntypos

I just got snuck up on by a ninja. A really sexy ninja with awesome hair. I need a new heart...  
#hotninja

I left london for this?  
#blimey

there's a t-Rex in my living room and he needs to put on a shirt. That thing freaks me out  
#turnonyourheartlight

Why T-Rex? Becasue T-Man sounds like a lame rapper, or porn star. Even i cant always be clever!  
#notclever

So much for The Big Guy learning to put on pants, PUT ON PANTS BG, NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE YOUR WEAPONRY  
#captainhammer

English accents are sexy, glad I don't have to miss them. Can I get an amen?  
#shutupenglish

Methinks the hot british broad is going to take away my phone. I just took a COUPLE (dozen) pictures .honest  
#badassbritishbird #lookofdoooooooooooooom

I ahve witnessed the glory that is SuperAbs. Why must he be taken?  
#sadsass

The debate rages; who's hotter, SuperAbs or his girlfriends? The world may never know  
#hotpolys #polyamory #mylife #sigh

LittleBoss has met her Science Soulmate and he is zen like buddha  
#toomuchscience #zenlikebuddha

jfc, i don't know whose worse, HotNinja or SuperAbs. I'm too young for a heartattack  
#saveme #eek

wow imagine that, HotNinja snuck up on me again. Not sure if she's trying to teach me or kill me  
#hotninja #forthewin

I need a good portmanteau for all the hotness here. Well, a LOT of pprtmanteaus...  
#bearoflittlebrains

Y'know, i'd be the most popular bitch on the planet if i could just TALK about these people.  
#sigh #empressofsass #hazasad #woe #stupidlyhot #sassus #interuptus

 

BONUS SCENE:

Darcy yelped like a startled dog when her phone was suddenly snatched right out of her hands with lightning speed. Even as she whipped around, half-standing up from the couch, she froze. That's what she got for perusing her little collection in the big, central rec room everyone wandered through at all hours. Natasha's darkly red eyebrow arched as she flicked through the scant eight really interesting pictures Darcy had managed to snap off with the fancy phone Tony had been all too happy to dump onto someone who actually appreciated his genius with electronics.

"Nice work, Lewis. You keep these on your phone?"

Stung, Darcy couldn't rope in her natural sass, snapping at the Black Widow like some comic book goon with a death wish. "No! Duh. Me and Mister J worked out a deal that I can look at them on my phone only when in the building. He stores 'em, not me. I figure if someone hacks J, y'all are gonna be in far deeper shit than my soft-core porn. But holy CRAP do I want to. I'd be like a one woman PR firm."

For a moment, that flat, mercurial gaze-- were her damn eyes blue or green or what, anyway?-- made Darcy wilt before the other sexy badass lady Darcy had an entire inappropriate 'crush on the teacher' mental boner for walked in. With some invisible signal, Peggy's hand was raising even as Natasha tossed the phone. That finely-shaped mouth, not yet painted red for the day, curled up in a feline smile and Darcy shrank down to peer over the back of the couch, knowing it was coming. Sure enough, exactly as Nat had done, one eyebrow rose quizzically and Darcy sighed to herself. It was never that sexy when Spock did it.

"And here we see the captain after an intense night of loving from his pack," she drawled out Darcy's caption on her favorite illicit pic of Cap's gorgeously sculpted torso decorated in claw marks and vicious bites. After a moment, Darcy realized that she might be allowed to survive the transgression as Peggy's cat-that-got-the-canary smile was positively filthy now. "Oh, I like that one. Jarvis, I require a copy."

"Of course," the AI agreed amiably. 

"And Darcy?" Peggy added and Darcy wasn't sure if she wanted to beg for mercy or to be mentored in how to master that dirty grin that somehow remained oddly classy. "That caption should absolutely read, 'enjoy them, bitches, 'cause they'll be gone by breakfast!'"

Natasha hooted with laughter and caught the phone being tossed back to her while Peggy moved off on her original errand, a sassy swing in her step that hadn't been there before. Darcy just gave her a sour look laced with real admiration.

"#sexysuperheroes, huh?"

Sulky now that she'd been outsassed by Carter, Darcy grumbled at Natasha's reading her dream hashtag. "Well, it's true."

"Guess that would go with #sassus #interuptus."

Darcy just continued to sulk, both pleased and embarrassed that Natasha had seen her Tweets. She was only slightly mollified when Natasha returned her phone and gave the younger woman a friendly squeeze on the shoulder before moving off. 

Sigh. Best and worst job ever...


	19. Drawn Out, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies figure turnabout is fair play.
> 
> Umm... I have no words for the insanity this became. But not going to apologize. Nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, do not eat or drink while reading this, particularly the ending. And be prepared, because the muses are gonna make you laugh. *shakes head*

"Step one: gather your supplies."

Angie refrained from rolling her eyes at the whispers of her 'mission commander'. Natasha was having far too much fun with this, but as long as she kept her feet on the floor and off the walls and possibly the ceiling, Angie could keep up. The half-dozen employees of the toy store must have thought the two women were crazy, but the several children tracking their progress and even playing along thought they were hilarious. There were a particularly interactive pair maybe eight years old who were getting into the game, peering around product racks and even growing bold enough to lunge after Natasha. 

For a for a formally brainwashed assassin raised as little more than a fighting animal, she was remarkably good with kids.

Realizing that they had a narrowing window before the active children figured out exactly who their new grownup pal was, Angie poked Nat in the side. "Gimme the stuff and I'll go pay. Remember to let them catch you eventually, I say they've earned it."

Natasha's grin was pure childish sass as she slipped away into the big toy store to continue the unexpected game. The line dragged on and Angie found herself anxious to get back to her pal. As expected, the two scamps hand 'caught' Natasha and clearly figured out that she was, indeed, the now-famous Black Widow. So far, it was clear she was okay with just her two little admirers, but Angie knew it wouldn't last.

"How I learned what I do was horrible, but good people taught me to do good," Natasha was saying, her tone sounding like she was channeling Steve at his Captain America best.

"You were a villain before?" the taller of the pair asked and Natasha nodded.

"I was, yes."

"You don't look dangerous."

That made Nat smile. "That's part of what makes me dangerous. However," she added quickly, not knowing if the comment was threatening or not, "remember, one of the good guys now."

"Why're you in the toy store?"

"A friend of mine has a small child."

"You have friends 'cides the Avengers?"

Apparently, the lad hadn't noticed Angie loitering nearby with a smirk on her face. The gentle reply in Nat's deep voice made her smile warmly.

"Friends are one of things that can help a bad person remember what's good. Believe, me, I know."

Herding the children with an open hand on the back of each neck, Natasha was discretely looking for their adult, even as they kept chattering at her.

"I didn't think girls could be superheroes."

That earned the smaller child a look equally wry as sharp.

"Well, the other Avengers seem to think I'm pretty good at it."

Luckily for the reluctant celebrity, they set to squabbling at one another and quickly drew the attention of a harried-looking man in a loosened tie. "Oh, thank god. You two are going to scare years off of me. Thank you, miss."

With her perfect secretary persona smile for the clueless father, Nat leaned over to catch the children's gazes. "Listen. You two can be whatever you want to be, okay? Don't believe anything else, no matter what anyone tells you. If I can do it, you can sure do it." That smile warmed and she gave their shoulders a squeeze. "And stop scaring your dad."

The cute little imps grabbed her in a hug and turned excitedly on their bemused parent, leaving Natasha to finally slip away effortlessly. Exhaustedly, she bumped shoulders with Angie, who was all smiles. "Charmer."

"A thousand bucks says, in ten-ish years, I'll be training one or the other as Shield's newest recruits."

Angie's laughter rang out with glee.

Their shopping errand gone swimmingly, the two women chatting as they cabbed home and walked across the wide concrete expanse leading to the banks of doors into the Avengers Tower, until Angie squeaked and whipped around as though goosed. "Oh no!"

She was always bad at remembering what her friends and loved ones did for a living, and Natasha was instantly all coiled menace, making Angie instantly raise placating hands.

"No, no, Nat, it's okay! I just left the shopping in the taxi."

When a elegant brow rose in that classic expression of, 'are you fucking kidding me,' Angie instantly glommed onto the powerful, curvy body to squeeze.

"'M sorry," she murmured into the russet hair, nestling her nose behind an ear for a long moment. Only when Natasha squeezed her back did Angie relent a little, her embrace loosening so that the redhead could fish out her phone.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes?"

"Where would be the closest place to find paint? Of the art variety, not the 'tired of my walls' type."

In a matter of seconds, the AI pointed them in the direction of a shop only a few blocks away.

"Thank you, Jarvis. If Peggy asks, we've been delayed by an innocent mistake."

"Very good."

Hanging up, she jammed the phone back in her pocket and shifted her body to tuck Angie against her side with an arm around the slighter woman's neck. "Come on, then, Trouble. This should be an easy fix and the forgotten bag will hopefully give some kid a thrill."

By the time they arrived back the second time, they were out of breath from the run and Peggy was waiting for them at their floor with an impatiently tapping foot.

"Sorry, there was..."

"Nevermind, we've only got a few minutes to catch him in the gym. Hop to it!"

"But clothes... and a shower?"

"Too late, Darling. I hope you can live with ruining this cute blouse."

"Aw horsefeathers."

"Get to the door and strip it off," Natasha suggested pragmatically, but her smirk was pure mischief. "Besides, it'll be an excellent distraction."

"I do like how you think, Agent!"

"Why, thank you, Director."

That they made it a joke now spoke volumes about friendship and comfort.

"These aren't children's paint," Peggy puzzled as Nat handed her a tube of crimson red and Angie grimaced.

"I lost the first batch. That's why we're late."

"Hall's clear, strip, itty-bitty," Nat ordered as she fished out the other four tubes, tucking the white into Peggy's cleavage with quick hands. The taller woman yelped from the cold and made Angie laugh as she quickly yanked off her shirt, unsure what to do with it. Nat pressed a tube of yellow into her hands and shoved her towards the door. "Leave it. Confusion and rumor can only work in our favor. Ready? Go!"

Letting the lovers rush in through the roughly opened door, Nat followed, the door clicking to locked behind her, just as they'd arranged with Jarvis earlier. Steve was already whipping around in pure shock as his wife, lover and partner rushed him with wild, childish yells. He let them rock him back against the swaying punching bag, Peggy sliding both hands up his neck to pull him into a kiss, Angie with hands over his belly and sides to send his shirt askew and Nat leaping at his head, her hands on chin and temple, not even interrupting the kiss.

"Surprise!"

It took a moment for Steve to register the smears of thick primary colors on his skin, their hands slick against him. 

"Oh it's ON," he yelled with a laugh and earned squeals and merriment. Headlocking Nat only succeeded in blue stuttered down his shirt like falling rain, a knife in her deadly competent hands rending the fabric from neck to kidney without ever brushing his skin. Grabbing Peggy with the other arm only made her grip his hair harder, smearing the lurid red from neck to crown like a bloody head wound. Angie merely held on as he danced around in circles, her yellow a belt around his waist, smearing to a warm green where her path intersected with Natasha's. Peggy slipped to the side, yanking the ruined tee away even as Angie used her small weight to get the sweats down to Steve's knees and headed further south.

"Not fair," he protested through laughter, still mock-combat dancing around as best he could with Angie and damp fleece hobbling him. With a twist, he made sure Angie was out of timber range and Peggy wasn't in the way and let Natasha's squirming unbalance him into crashing like a tree to the wooden floor. As expected, Nat scuttled out of the way with the effortless grace of the spider she was named after. "Oh, they got me," Steve mourned dramatically and was instantly pounced on like a wildebeest taken down by a trio of lionesses. 

"Got you," Peggy crowed where she plunked herself onto his chest, as cocky as any rooster, red streaked up her arms, chin and chest. "Now let's see if we can't make you look like a proper wild man!"

Bemused and completely captivated with their childish antics, Steve lay mostly peacefully, watching Peggy's happy expression as she drew lines and swirls on his face, trying to ignore the hidden sensuous touch of Angie's hands on his legs and tickling randomly at Natasha where she was caught up in making him look like some sort of archaic warrior in swirls of bright blue. Eventually, they settled into murmuring to themselves and one another, moving to lay out on the wooden floor or sit cross-legged beside his prone body.

Steve had been pantsed often enough by the Bean that he no longer went commando, particularly in sweats, and had grown used to at least a jock keeping johnson and his backup singers for private display. It made the greenish handprint all the funnier where it soiled the white cloth.

"We're only lettin' you keep it 'cause you have to get back to the apartment to shower," Angie had smirked wickedly as she'd teasingly left said green handprint. By now the woman were nearly as much of a mess as Steve was, the smears on them with no rhyme or reason, making them look childlike and uninhibited. Steve didn't know when he'd ever adored the whole insane trio of them more as he lay there quietly and basked in the feel of their six hands on his skin and the sound of their beloved voices.

His ruined shirt was passed around like the tubes of paint to wipe away the worst of the blobs so they could mix the colors they wanted with their saturated hands. When it became useless, Nat shrugged and pulled hers off, uncaring about being half naked in her lacy bra.

"Are you dozing off, Darling?"

Mouth curling in a lazy smile, Steve opened his eyes to search Peggy's dark, warm gaze. "This is surprisingly relaxing. I'm starting to understand why you three like this so much. I'm going to start using my hands more."

"Sounds delightful," she purred and leaned over to rub their noses together, but leaned away from his attempt at a kiss. "Don't pout so. None of us are eager to find out how this mess tastes. I'll make it up to you later in the shower."

"Yes ma'am," he leered willingly enough, earning a trio of throaty chuckles. "Are you gonna wear these shorty shorts for me some other time when I can wrestle 'em off ya?" Feigning outrage at his teasing groping, Peggy swatted at him while the other two giggled.

Eventually, they wound down, starting with Natasha sprawling out and Angie following suit, cuddling into her playmate's shoulder and torso.

"Nat, ya never got past step one of our mission."

"Well it hardly matters now. He looks like bad graffiti, so I feel quite satisfied."

"Aw, c'mon, humor me."

"Oh, put the puppy eyes away. So, step one: gather your supplies. We accomplished that with only a bit of duress, no problem. A good agent always has a backup plan."

"Got it."

"Step two: acquire your target. The big wuss didn't even put up a fight."

Steve made a faintly amused sound and waved vaguely in their direction, nearly asleep where he was still sprawled out nearby, Peggy laying beside him, drawing lazy pattern over his chest and the sloppy art redefining his shape almost as effectively as the serum once had.

"Step three: attack in the most effective manner possible. As we caught the target by surprise and he didn't put up much of a fight, a frontal assault was quite effective."

"Don't forget it was fun," Peggy added in sleepily before sitting up with a groan. "And on that note, time to hit the shower, my dears!"

They all whined and protested mockingly, but did as ordered. Steve twisted and bent to try and see the whole of the riot of color he'd become, but he would never be able to really see it. "Hey Jarvis, did you get all this?"

"Indeed, sir."

"Excellent! We owe you one!"

Leaving the mess behind, they snuck into the hallway as though it really were a stealth mission, ruined by Angie's stifled giggling. It almost worked too, until Bruce, of all people, stepped out into the hallway and his eyes went round in shock.

He actually dropped his mug to shatter against the floor and the four miscreants froze like kids caught out by their teacher, before bursting into hysterical giggling. For a moment the older man simply marveled at the mad child's painting that had become of Steve's science-sculpted body and the women looking like they'd had water balloons of every color of the rainbow burst close by. Their scanty dress wouldn't even register until much later. When they all looked at one another as though searching for a volunteer, Bruce just held up a silencing hand and rubbed his eyes with the other hand, sending his glasses askew. "No, I don't talk to hallucinations. Go away." Turning and striding away, he muttered, "this is weirder than college."

The quadrangle laughed the entire way back to their apartment.

 

EPILOG

Scrubbing over his scalp and face with a soapy rag, Steve let the spray of the gigantic shower clear his eyes as he worked the cloth over neck and jaw. "How did it get in my ears? Kinky," he marveled, pausing when he didn't get a chuckle and squinted around the soap. For a moment he didn't understand the trio of amused, consternated, growing near-horrified expressions.

Until he realized the color wasn't coming off them completely either.

The paint had stained them like watercolors brushed thinly over a canvas.

Shaking his head, Steve spoke with careful neutrality. "So, where did you get the paints anyway?"

Angie and Natasha shared guilty looks, the spy going back to looking in shocked annoyance at her hands stained like a snowcone while Angie hemmed and hawed. "Well, we were running late and I accidently left the kids paints we bought in the cab and there's a art supply place around the corner..."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it. Why didn't you just use my stuff?"

Finally Peggy spoke up, every inch of her sheepish, right down to her flush from tits to eyebrows. "We didn't want to get into your supplies." 

All Steve could do was sigh deeply like the long-suffering pussy-whipped dog he was.

 

EPILOG, THE REVENGE

Tony's violent spit-take and Clint actually dropping his fork was almost worth the appearance at the massive communal meal they'd been alerted was going on.

"I didn't imagine it," Bruce marveled and set down his forkful of pasta down, not interested now that Tony had backwashed all over his dinner.

"Holy tattooed fucknuggets and a squirrel nutsack, what the hell exploded all over you four???"

Sighing at Tony's yelling, Steve herded in his sheepish lionesses, having to put a little muscle into getting a scowling Natasha to move. When Darcy automatically went for her phone-- no one could really blame her there-- Steve held up a hand for patience. With a flourish, he whipped off his tee shirt and posed like a cartoon muscleman, Angie and Peggy raising their hands like screaming fans at a concert. When Nat continued to sulk, Steve broke for a moment to the sound of the giggling starting up like a cold diesel engine. When he flicked the back of Nat's head and she scowled murderously at him before joining in on the hand-raising, the group broke down, completely losing their collective shit at the spectacle.

The women's hands, particularly fingers and palms, were so deeply colored that it almost looked deliberate and their faces and necks were streaked and speckled with faint, washed-out patches of colors. Steve, on the other hand, looked like a nightmarish mashup of every culture on the planet that had ever painted themselves for love or war as done by a small child on LSD. Once Darcy had taken some shaky pictures because of her giggling, Steve kissed his girls on their heads, starting with Nat, who slouched down petulantly into her chair.

"Dear god, your hair," Pepper breathed out in horrified hilarity, her voice high-pitched with the effort of not laughing while she spoke and Steve obligingly stepped over to lean down so that she could finger his still-mostly darkly gold hair, grown shaggy with neglect and now with a distinct reddish-pinkish-orangeish undercut and disheveled fistfuls along the back. "Oh Steve..."

While Pepper found herself blabbing on about maybe a hairdresser fixing at least that damage and tried to not stare in awe at the spectacle of their dyed skins and stuttering around repressed laughter, the rest didn't even try to behave, even Bruce broken down into hilarity. Angie hunched down like a kid who was supposed to be contrite and was trying not to guffaw and earn a cuff to the head while Peggy did her damnest to maintain her shredded dignity. It was useless and she finally rested her elbows on the table to rest her head in her colorful hands. "Hyenas," she muttered and the noise rose up again.

Steve managed to get in enough words in edgewise in the hullabaloo to tell the others the basics. Tony, of course, ran with it. "Well shit, no wonder you look like some sort of weird clown porn."

Even Angie dissolved into hysterics at that one, shrugging at the trio of deadpan looks from her packmates. "What? It was funny!"

"I have never been so glad the jumpsuits are long sleeved," Natasha grumped and ignored the friendly headbutt from Angie. "I can just picture Fury's face if he makes me take the gloves off."

"Not to mention what he'd say," Clint cackled, breathless with laughter.

"I hope the other guy looks worse, motherfucker," Steve deadpanned and set them all off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist adding in the 'motherfucker'. I just COULDN'T. I was nose deep in this crackfest, so why not let it really let loose, right? Oh, and Tony's shout changed like 4 times, getting sillier and sillier. I'm rather pleased by how it finally came out.


	20. Pillow Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Natasha found it all too easy to fall in with the Carter Clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hilarious (fake) text messages came across my dash about a month ago and I've really wanted to write something hilarious and sweet for it, so here we are! In honor of Polyamorous Day, July 1st.
> 
> If, after you've read the shenanigans, you'd like to see the original hilarity on Tumblr?  
> http://shatterpath.tumblr.com/post/120227263193/cblgblog-shatterpath-cblgblog 
> 
> If not? The most important highlights are at the end.  
> 

 

Spitting out the mouthful of toothpaste and swishing his mouth out, Steve stepped back into the hotel room to spot nothing more odd than Natasha comfortably sprawled out playing with her mobile phone. Except that he realized after a moment that it wasn't her phone at all.

"Dammit, Nat!"

With a flying leap of supernaturally powerful muscles, Steve actually managed to get the drop on her, a tackle that left their combined weight dangling precariously at the edge of the huge bed. With a twist of his big body, he then managed to get the phone and sit up, weight firmly pinning the assassin to the bed. Though he was quite certain her hysterical giggling was doing far more in his favor than his 'combat' skills in this instance. Touching the glass screen, Steve was amused and fondly annoyed at his partner, giving her a wry look that set off a whole new storm of girlish hilarity. Tapping at the screen, he spelled out, 'she's insane' and relished the smiley face he got back with her return message.

'who knew she could be so ridiculously whimsical?'

For the first couple of pokes, he ignored those small, normally-deadly fingers looking for a vulnerable spot around his ribs, but she eventually found a spot that made him drop the phone with a yelp.

"OW! Natasha!"

If he had stuck to just jolting his considerable weight down onto her trapped pelvis, he might have kept her pinned, but he made the mistake of twisting slightly and she slithered away like a squeezed grape. Rolling to a crouch on the floor, she leapt like a cat, right over his half-heartedly flailing hands, to land in a crouch by the headboard and grab a pillow to whack him in the face with it. All in one beautifully sinuous move. 

"Oh, it's ON!"

Like a pair of rabid monkeys, the two superheroes proceeded to ping around the confines of the hotel room with all the unrestrained glee of a pair of free radicals. Even the discarded phone ringing where it had fallen to the floor barely slowed them down.

"Phone, answer!" Steve called, figuring he knew who it was. Sure enough, Peggy's low, beautifully accented voice carried thinly into the room.

"Steve, darling? You didn't respond… and what on earth is going on?"

"I was brutally ambushed!" As those words could be taken literally with the company he was keeping, it was a good thing their combined laughter reassured Peggy that there was no actual threat. "She smacked me with a pillow! The meanie!"

"Oh, boo-hoo," Natasha mocked and slipped into a horribly cartoonish Russian accent. "American superhero cannot resist powerful Russian pillow."

"That was just awful."

Far away, Peggy found herself grinning at the merriment carrying to her ear. Even before she and Angie and Grace had been freed from their cryogenic hibernation, Tony Stark had thawed Steve to help save the world. During that battle, the insanely destructive war that both wrecked and saved New York, Steve had bonded to the people who had become the Avengers, but none more than the lone woman in their half-dozen. They'd bonded in battle and mutual respect, found compatible senses of humor and surprisingly well-matched skill sets. Women always seemed to get along better with Steve anyway, Peggy knew this and understood why. He refused to think women beneath him, treating each with an honest respect that sometimes startled the recipient. Men too often saw him as a threat or something to prove themselves against; a disservice to her beloved. 

With a few more thumps and the sudden rattle-crash of something being spectacularly broken, a quiet fell.

"Oops," Natasha giggled breathlessly and her smaller weight could be heard thumping onto a bed where her muffled, childish hilarity could fill the quiet. There was a sharp smack and Nat yelped briefly amidst the giggling and Steve's voice approached the phone.

"Y'know, Romanoff, I never would have guessed you would be this much fun. Hey, doll."

With his voice close and strong in the phone again, Peggy held to her own phone and drank up the thrum of amused adoration carrying to her. "Did you have fun, darling?"

"Sure, the 'business meeting' went off without a hitch. Or did you mean the feline hyena here?"

Clearly in the grip of some private hilarity, Natasha's laughter ratcheted up again before falling off.

"C'mere you, and no poking. Just curl up and drop off when you're ready. Good kitty."

"Fuck off, Carter," Natasha yawned, her voice just carrying to the phone and earning Peggy's throaty chuckle.

"She sounds exhausted."

"Laughing jag. Little sleep and she'll be kicking my ass again tomorrow," Steve agreed good-naturedly, propping the stupid tiny phone against his shoulder and cheek so he could stroke the red hair with his freed hand. Natasha had imperiously commandeered his other arm as her personal cuddle toy, body curled in fetal position against his ribs. "Glad you called, Pegs, I miss your voice. Angie still up?"

Too many miles away, Peggy looked down at the mane of brown hair strewn over her lap where Angie had fallen asleep some time ago, Grace draped all over her. None of them slept well when any of their numbers were missing. "Afraid not. She passed out some time ago during a movie. I haven't the heart to wake her quite yet."

"Well you tell her when she's up again that I'm draggin' her into that big ol' bed and not lettin' her outta my sight for a couple days. And that goes for you too, Missy. I'll be home tomorrow if I gotta swim to do it. Probably roll in about dinner time?"

"Excellent. We'll hold you in reserve to surprise Grace." Which, of course was code for 'don't tell the kid, so she won't be disappointed if you can't make it'. "And be certain to bring your playmate along for some company."

"You got it. Miss you, love you."

"Miss you, love you," Peggy echoed softly in response to his voice softening towards sleep. "Good night, my darling."

"'Nite, Pegs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shatterpath I thought you might like to see this, considering I just laughed so hard I snorted chocolate and peanut butter through my nose.  
> Oh my god yes.  
> BAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! I can quite clearly picture Natasha’s smirk in the faint light from the phone, Steve humming to himself as he does his nightly routine in the nearby bathroom. Then hollers at Nat when he catches her because she REALLY wanted to see Peggy’s response and darts away, laughing. Steve rubs his eyes, torn between amusement at his partner and wanting to sit on her until she behaves.  
> A perfect scenario for some hotel on a mission somewhere. A pillow fight may ensue. This also plays into my acute desire for Natasha to become a fourth to Steggnelli, but (probably exclusively) in a cuddle-buddy way. Because if there’s anyone in the Marvelverse that could benefit from a touchy-feely pack she trusts, it’s Natasha.  
> cblgblog shatterpath I support this decision  
> Now I can't shake the image of Steve sitting on a laughing Natasha while he texts Peggy back to apologize for his insane sidekick. Who is near-hysterical and poking him in the side and dammit that HURTS. So he jolts his weight on her (he very carefully has settled across her pelvis and hips, not ribs) and she 'whuffs' and thus begins the pillow fight.  
> RainbowRiddler: BAHAHAHA!!  
> Shatterpath: Like, he's just sitting their casually, ignoring her trying to find a soft spot (he's got his legs crossed because Nat would go for the goolies if she had to) and tapping on his phone. She's only failing because she's laughing her ass off and not really trying to hurt.


	21. Cat Perch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartfelt gift for Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Natasha sometimes torn about her feelings for her new family and how to deal not just with said feelings, but the physical reality of so many people about. So, those thoughts led to this tale.

Living with Natasha was a constant, subtle dialog. 

Sometimes she would get fed up and leave, resulting in a bristly, defensive stand off, sometimes for days. It was during one of these uncomfortable times that Steve had a realization. He knew Natasha wasn't upset with them, but herself. There was something about that extra bed that offended her. It was Grace's cat that finally gave him the answer.

Thankfully, Tony was in his lab, the older man perking pu at he prospect of company.

"I need your help," Steve blurted out bluntly, cutting off whatever Tony was about to say. "But no sass this time. Someone in my family is miserable and I need a solution."

Oh, part of Tony wanted to sass anyway, but he liked the Carters and they were good company, even when he was at his lowest. So he shelved his ego for a bit and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Okay, lay it out, Cap."

Clearly stressed, Steve rambled on about how Natasha would get standoffish, but not want to leave completely, and the bristly restlessness was exhausting to everyone. "Then I noticed Harry, Grace's cat, would get up onto that damn sideboard-hutch thing every time company was over and just watch."

While he as rambling, Steve had grabbed a pen and a mostly blank sheet of paper-- Tony refrained from telling him it was actually important-- and flipped it to the blank side to sketch. It was their big, group bedroom, the great, sprawling bed and comfortable places to lounge and move about.

"Doesn't like the furniture, huh?" Tony had to add in wryly and Steve glared, but quickly relented.

"I don't know exactly. It's clear she wants to be close, but I have no idea how to make her comfortable. Sometimes just curling up by the head of the bed is good enough, but sometimes she gets so…"

"Twitchy?"

"Yeah, that's as good a word as any."

"So why bother? With any of it?"

The shock clear on Steve from feet to hairline was answer enough and Tony raised placating hand.

"Sorry, big guy, sometimes I don't get it."

"It's just… she's family now, y'know?"

Tony rubbed his chin and idly eyed Steve's sketch. "Hey, Jarvis, can you give me a 3D layout of the Carter bedroom?"

As requested, an exact recreation of said bedroom appeared in mouse-scale, painted in cool blue light.

"So, something high up, no problem, the ceilings in there are twelve feet and there's an open space for wiring and ducts if we need it."

"Like a hammock."

Tony almost sneered, but paused to give the idea some real thought. "Yeah, I see where you're going with that. Only high up. Maybe even directly above the door." Shoving his hands into the webs of light, he manipulated them as though they were solid, the tableau zooming in on the door of the bedroom. "Jarvis, can you strip the drywall and show us the studs and wires? It can't be a traditional hammock because-- not only would that be spectacularly unsafe that high up, even for the Widow-- the space is a corner."

"So something triangular."

"Perfect. I can get this wall reinforced in an afternoon and we can cobble together a big-ass three-point canvas platform strong enough for the little spider and even some company."

"Company? But it's meant for just her."

"Steve, really? You don't think your maniacal little spawn isn't going to be in that thing five minutes after its up? Get real. I'll rig it with a net or something so she doesn't fly out of the damn thing."

"Thank you," Steve replied, subdued over the truth of his acrobatic and sneaky daughter.

 

Two days and twice that many secret meetings later and Steve was sprawled out on the huge group bed awaiting his womenfolk to come home. They'd gone willingly enough with Pepper's pleading for a girl's day out, leaving the guys with plenty of time to get the surprise built. That long done, Steve had happily spent his time drawing and playing on the computer, but even with music going, it was far too quiet in his family's home. Right on cue, there was a riot of noise and he felt himself flooded with happiness to hear the jumble of their voices. Quickly setting aside his supplies, he grabbed the quilt and mummified himself in it. Not a moment too soon as little feet came tearing down the hallway to the private rooms, Grace calling out, "Daddy, Daddy!"

"Now where's that silly guy?" Angie's voice joined her and suddenly Grace shrieked in delight and her weight landed on him. "Nice hidin' job there, Big Guy," Angie teased and Grace launched into a rapid-fire retelling of their day.

"An' then we played dress up, but Aunt Pepper promised a horse ride, so we went to Center Park and… hey, what's that?"

Grinning all the wider at his daughter's antics, he gently grabbed her leg where she was sitting across his chest. "It's a present."

"Yay!"

"No, Gracie, that's not for you. But can you guess who it's for?"

The forlorn dejection evaporated in the face of a new game. "Hmmm. Not Mama or Nini, I guess, but Nata!"

"That's right! Like Harry sometimes wants to be up high and just watch everything going on, I thought that Nata would like a special place all her own."

Where the women had followed Grace to the big bedroom, they all looked as he gestured above their heads and he grabbed Grace to be rolled over and playfully growled at while she squealed and 'fought' back.

"You made me a cat perch?" Natasha asked wryly, peering up at the triangular sail set about nine feet up in spankin' new shiny eyebolts that looked like they should be restraining a tugboat. Blowing loud raspberries on Grace's cheek, Steve let up and regarded her with never-ending adoration.

"Hey, sweetie, Aunt Pepper looks thirsty, can you take her to go get a drink? I know you love using the water fountain on the refrigerator."

Instantly distracted, Grace was off like a shot, Pepper firing him a wry but understanding look as she was dragged off. That let Steve sit up and gesture at the odd contraption above the bedroom door.

"Sometimes I get the feeling you want to be close but not too close. So I got to thinking and Tony gave me hand and the thing came out pretty nice. Climb up and see if you like it."

Setting down her purse and a couple of shopping bags, Natasha eyed the thing and-- in a blur of motion-- leapt up to grab the rope loops wound around the leading edge. Made with drum-tight aircraft cable, the thing barely wobbled at her small weight and in a typically spectacular show of physicality, Natasha twisted her body up and threaded herself past the overlapped sheets of netting that acted as a door of sorts. That the grips were three and half feet above her head and she was wearing stiletto heels never factored in.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Steve happily gathered Peggy and Angie to him to be squeezed and kissed.

"I see now why you ran us out," Peggy chuckled, ignoring the small scuffling noises from above.

"Ran you out," he scoffed and kissed her more thoroughly as Angie was uncharacteristically quiet and leaning ever heavier against his head and chest. "Like that'll ever happen. Hey, chatterbox, Gracie wear you out?"

"Always does."

Abruptly, Natasha's face appeared at the netting, her expression pensive. "It's nice, thank you Steve. Sturdy too. Could probably have visitors."

"The way Iron Brain over-engineered that thing, we could all get up there and not overload it. Be a little crowded though."

Nodding, she faded back, but returned at his gentle call. "Nat? you okay?"

From some, a question like that would earn-- at best-- a cold, flat stare. But these people were her family now and deserved her honesty. Watching the small assassin nibble fretfully at her bottom lip, the trio waited her out. When her head popped out of the netting door, her expression was conflicted and a little terrified.

"I can still join you guys sometimes, right?"

The trio of open arms was incentive enough to jump down and squeeze in among them for cuddles.

"Of course, Nat," Steve mumbled and gave her an affectionate head-butt. "That's only a fun alternative for you if you want to use it. Besides, someone will need to keep an eye out on Gracie around it."

The Avengers duo laughed at Peggy and Angie groaning at the prospect of more shenanigans from the boisterous child.


	22. A Hammock In Tower Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per the prompt: Hi friends, just here to remind you not to imagine your otp on a hammock together. Don’t imagine Person B is asleep on Person A’s chest and definitely don’t imagine Person A with one foot on the floor so they can rock the hammock in hopes of keeping Person B asleep.
> 
> The refugees from the past integrate more into the present as the Avengers Tower and its inhabitants adapt more and more.

Once thawed out back to good as new and returned woozy but ready to move on, the ladies of the Carter Clan were an even bigger hit with the Avengers and company than the super soldier once known as Captain America. At least once the motley crew started migrating back to the rapidly rebuilding Avenger's Tower. Admittedly, those early days in the old mansion in Riverdale were a good transition, the old house still looking remarkably as they had left it. There they learned some of the basics they needed, Steve and Peggy ranging out with the other superheroes to fix up poor Manhattan. But the minute Angie got wind of the Tower being at least partially inhabitable, she put her foot down. No one was happy about the transition, but it was the right thing to do and Angie knew it. Separation was agony and the distance wasn't helping any. And the past needed to become the past.

Living in the Tower in those early days was the strangest mix of wartime conditions and overwhelming luxury. New York dug in and rebuilt around them-- because that's what New York did, dammit!-- and the Tower reflected the changes gradually. So it wasn't really a surprise that the simple needs of a lonely child and her free-spirited caretaker were overlooked.

It was Natasha that discovered their private play space, curiosity driving her and her skills making the tailing effortless. Marveling at the chaotic space, Natasha didn't even bother to be stealthy, knowing that Grace's squeals of delight would soon enough turn on her. Though it was Angie that spotted her first, jumping in surprise and then smiling, her face welcoming and sheepish.

"I hope Tony and Pepper won't mind that we took over in here. Didn't figure anyone would be gettin' to this any time soon. What will all that's goin' on out there and what happened to you?"

Waving off the concern about the sling on her left arm and the bandage taped to her cheek, Natasha stepped over and took a better look. "You've built a whole town… storybook… giant game in here. Wow."

It was mostly cardboard boxes, brightly painted into cottages and castles and spaceships and aliens. A restaurant's worth of tables, chairs and couches provided structural support and a huge roll of reddish industrial carpet had been opened up to protect from the rough cement floor.

That was how it started. Once the warm months of summer and early fall fell away, there was little New York could do for their wrecked downtown, so focus turned to interiors. Crews returned to the floors below the play space to continue the task of subsuming the MetLife Building into the Strak-now-Avengers Tower. Everyone had found out about the play room and enjoyed it, but it could be so much more. Even the always-busy Tony found some time to add improvements and it grew and grew. The ceiling became a barrel shape, painted a soft blue with indistinct clouds and uplights lining the walls that slowly brightened and dimmed over the course of the day to reflect the outside. Or what the outside would be on a beautiful summer day, anyway. Tony admitted he swiped the idea from Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, but he oneupmanshipped it, of course. He ran thousands of feet of fiber optics to beam in natural sunlight or artificial full-spectrum light to really sell the illusion of being outdoors. Support pillars were mocked up to look like trees, the walls were painted and had facades built to mimic the cardboard village that Grace and Angie had created long ago, each of the extended family adding a touch here and there.

But the best part was also the weirdest, particularly from the family from the past. The floor was carefully waterproofed and a drainage system put in, as though Tony was going to install a foot-deep pool that would take over the entire, sprawling floor. After tossing everyone out for a few days, he brought them down to the dark space, all of them confused by the scent of rich, damp earth and… grass?

With a flourish, Tony gestured and the lights blazed to mid-day brightness to reveal the entire massive space had been turned into a grassy park. With a squeal of delight, Grace raced over it, falling and rolling like an overexcited puppy.

"Had the stuff grown in Florida and shipped here," Tony explained as the adults gingerly tested out the green surface. "The company I tracked down grew the stuff in trays and they removed the sides once it got here and they slid them into place like paving stones. It's watered from beneath and the ventilation has been modified on this floor to accommodate the moisture. Come summer, the glass is getting changed so that some of the windows can be swung open for fresh air."

A chorus of alarmed looks made him chuckle.

"Let me rephrase, can be opened well above head height and will have reinforced screens to keep bugs out and sneaky little girls in. I think some plans for a private school in the building is a good idea too. This spot will be good for that as well."

Even Steve hugged him at that point.

Smaller spaces appeared here and there in Grace's Park, a swing set and a play castle that could be dismantled and reconfigured in different ways with a little time and a few tools. Grace did enjoy bossing her daddy about on that task. When the watering system went wonky in the northwest corner, instead of fighting it, the system was tied off and everything was stripped out right to the floor to become a sand pit. The flat roof of the bathrooms was reinforced and could often be seen housing a sunbather or two. The quiet electric mower that trundled over the lush grass was a favored plaything of Grace's. She was determined she would sneak up on it, no matter that Jarvis shut it down and locked away its sharp blades whenever she came within a few feet of it. Child and AI enjoyed the game.

The utilitarian support pillars mocked up to look like thick trees were convincing enough that Clint decided the park needed at least one treehouse. The little cottage with its small bed for Grace and a couple of comfy chairs for her guests and caretakers was a huge hit. The spindly-looking metal stairs spiraling up the false tree were cool too. Angie liked it so much that she persuaded the archer to help design a big deck in the quietest corner of the park, across from the sand pit. Since the grass beneath the elevated cottage had been unhappy with the light being cut off, they went with a perforated metal deck with a matching table and chairs. 

But the best part was the half dozen places to hang hammocks.

There were far worse places to pass a hard New York winter, to be sure.

++++

Humming softly to herself, Angie lay in her favorite hammock and soaked up the artificial summer while she idly watched The Empire Strikes Back. She'd learned to enjoy the special effects that could be eerily real, though it had taken some time and desensitization. After all, Angie remembered marveling in open-mouthed astonishment the lovely Disney cartoon, Flowers and Trees, released at the end of the Great Depression, when the novelty of Technicolor had left the world stunned.

Natasha's early suggestion of marching through the decades via the Disney-Pixar movies had been sheer genius. Even if had left all four refugees in time staring at Grace's toys a bit warily for a while. Grinning fondly at the memory, Angie refocused on the film, but a tickle of instinct pulled her attention away and she jerked in shock at Natasha, standing not five feet away.

"Saint Jemima, you're quiet! And you're home! C'mere!"

Struggling to get out of the hammock left her awkwardly half-sideways, one foot on the ground, teetering precariously. In a typically sinuous move, Natasha's weight was suddenly all over her, balancing the hammock out, curled in a tense, compact ball. She was still in her Shield jumpsuit and fully armed, so Angie figured it had been a rough day. Ever so gently, she set her loose hands down on the red hair, absorbing the flinch that rattled the surprisingly heavy weight half atop her. Like Peggy, Natasha was softness over stone, the womanly curves belying the sheer power of her compact body.

"Is this okay?" Natasha belatedly mumbled against Angie's throat, her tense body fully prepared to flee, and Angie smiled gently and began stroking the soft mane. It was a neutral caress, deliberately meant to not trigger, but provide comfort.

"Absolutely. You just relax, sweetie. Jarvis? Could you rewind the movie about ten minutes? I was a bit distracted."

"Certainly," the AI answered from the television's speakers and the action onscreen raced backwards. Natasha squirmed around a bit, leaving one of her small pistols pressed into Angie's leg. She studiously ignored it and the wristbands of lethal tubes laying against her side and sternum. Deadly she may be, but Natasha would never hurt her family willingly. Humming tunelessly, Angie watched her movie and pet Natasha's soft hair in comfort and pressed her dangling toes against the grate floor for a touch of gentle movement. Ever so slowly, the rigid tension flowed from the small, powerful body, tense breathing slowing and evening out. Happy that her friend and loved one could find some peace, Angie settled in beneath the false summer sun and relished the welcome change to her solitary afternoon in her favorite hammock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per the IM conversation on 7-24:  
> 12:30 AM Ayrki: I got another prompt for you!  
> 12:30 AM Shatterpath: oh? you know me, I'm always up for a prompt  
> 12:31 AM Ayrki: http://ayrki.tumblr.com/post/124835511979/brainboxy-hi-friends-just-here-to-remind-you  
> 12:31 AM Shatterpath: DAWWWWWW  
> 12:31 AM Ayrki: Your pick on characters (or I can be a shit and give you some) Like: Nat and Angie  
> 12:31 AM Shatterpath: Steve with his gaggle of females piled all over him no doubt. Nat and Angie are ridiculously cute, like puppies  
> 12:32 AM Ayrki: Yup  
> 12:32 AM Shatterpath: I love it!  
> 12:32 AM Ayrki: Question is: who's the one awake. Logic says Nat but I wanna say Angie. You know: break expectation  
> 12:33 AM Shatterpath: oh, I like that twist! there's something so lovely about Nat being trusting enough to sleep soundly  
> 12:33 AM Ayrki: Sometimes a good attempt at breaking a block is to totally shake things up. Do it differently. Or Steve crashed out on one of them instead of the other way.  
> 12:34 AM Shatterpath: smoosh 'em like a bug. *whispers* "Help! I'm trapped!"  
> 12:35 AM Ayrki: -laughs- but I gotta give it a go as well. After tag feels, I need to play with it  
> 12:35 AM Shatterpath: thank goodness there is so much pretty out there!  
> 12:48 AM Shatterpath: so now the Avenger's Tower needs a lower floor needs to be modified to have some windows that open up and some grass planted for an indoor park. I LOVE IT  
> 12:48 AM Ayrki: :)  
> 12:49 AM Shatterpath: Angie and Grace will be thrilled with grass. Tony figures out how to pipe in sunlight and mock up a ceiling that's surprisingly convincing  
> 12:52 AM Ayrki: Mirrors  
> 12:53 AM Shatterpath: I was thinking more the ceiling in Caesar's Palace in Vegas and fiber optics; the walls painted and facaded to look like clusters of trees and other obstacles so no one walks into the walls and Jarvis keeps the lighting close to the actual outside to fool the eye.


	23. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie finds comfort in wearing the fabrics of her loved ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from my pal, cblgblog on 7-23: Stegginelli doesn’t exist for me if Angie isn’t forever stealing shirts from both Steve and Peggy.

"I knew it was you."

Angie didn't mean to shriek, but the startled sound echoed briefly in the room as she jumped and whirled around. How a man could look so smug and yet sheepish she'd never know, but there it was, plastered all over Steve's handsome mug.

The second shriek was a happy sound and Steve eagerly took the charge, letting his body rock back a bit to accept her momentum. She sniffled and squeezed him with her whole body wrapped around his solid mass, murmuring endearments and kissing his bristly face.

"I missed you, where's Peggy?"

"I missed you too, Doll, and she'll be along in a bit. I was ordered off to keep our girl company and if we don't see the lady in a few hours, I'm going to go back to HQ and throw her over my shoulder."

Nodding, she settled into his lap, soaking up the welcome heat that always poured off of him from that wacky metabolism. Those big hands stroking over her was very soothing, settling her stress with practiced ease.

"Too long, I know, sweetheart."

It had been a long week and that was the truth. Sometimes Angie could handle it-- forever being outside of the world-saving her lovers did quietly behind the scenes-- and other times she fretted and got angry and scared. This time, she fell in the middle of that spectrum and the hug was enough to mostly settle her. Until she hugged the stuffing out of Peggy, she would remain a bit anxious. Abruptly yanking her head back where she'd been listening to the strong throb of Steve's heart, Angie gave him a squinty-eyed look.

"What do you mean, 'I knew it was you'?"

No matter the time he'd spent in this spitfire's company, she could always catch Steve off guard, usually resulting in his laughter, this time a low, rolling chuckle, laced with something he shared only with the two women he loved.

"My shirt," he explained with a slightly dirty grin and tugged at the garment as Angie blushed prettily. "And I recognize this fancy yellow slip."

"Well you oughtta, you gave it to Pegs for Christmas."

Chuckling at her customary sass, Steve pressed kisses over her clavicles and earned another squeal by abruptly burying his face into the lovely upper curves of her tits, left half bared by the slip too large for her petite frame. They both startled at the smoky chuckle from the doorway, heads snapping over to see a wearily smiling Peggy slipping her shoes off. Sobbing the Englishwoman's name, Angie evacuated Steve's embrace in enough of a flurry that she would have probably knocked out a lesser man. He leaned back on his elbows to watch even as Peggy raised a restraining hand.

"Gently, Darling, I fear I'm a bit… sore."

Concerned, Angie calmed, slinking over to carefully wrap Peggy in a loving hug. They were so beautiful together, Steve just couldn't get why people were so stupid about it. Peggy stroked Angie's head adoringly, murmuring love and apologies while they clung.

"Come on, boss lady, bed," Steve finally half coaxed and half ordered. Firing him a look for his cheek-- no heat at all in the mock censure-- Peggy nodded and tilted Angie's head up for a sweet kiss.

"Let me strip out of these layers, my dears, and I'll be happy with a long cuddle."

Steve stood to drop his trousers and strip off shirt and tie, pausing when Angie came over to lean into him, arms tight around his waist and her face pressed to the thin material of his undershirt. Toilet and sink ran before Peggy wandered over to wrap herself around them both, Angie tucking her head close. Then Angie broke up the standing cuddle to shove Steve who would have had to perform some potentially destructive acrobatics to avoid toppling due to the pants tangled around his feet and instead crashed to the thankfully sturdy bed. Crawling over to the far side, normally Steve's spot, Peggy slipped under the covers with a thankful sigh while Angie knelt to free Steve's feet, taking the socks with the mass of fabric.

"Leave 'em," Steve said, scooping up Angie's small weight and yanking his clothes from her hands and tossing them negligently aside. "I'll take care of it after cuddles."

Ignoring the half-hearted protests, he whipped the covers back to roll her across the massive mattress and climbed in to squish up Angie between he and Peggy's bodies. Leaning over the sleepy Peggy, Angie was relaxed and reassured by slow, drugging kisses, the familiar soft curves and hard muscle lurking beneath, that elegant hand ranging leisurely simply for the sake of touch.

"I've missed you, Darling. We've missed you."

"Yup," Steve agreed easily, snuggled to Angie's back and resting his hand over her hip to lay against Peggy's belly.

"You guys know I always miss you. I'm so glad you're home."

Words were forgotten for kisses and caresses, but it was a losing fight for Peggy in her sore, overworked state. Barely awake, she stilled her touches over Angie's waist, brows knitting in adorable confusion.

"Did you nick this, you naughty thing? And Steve's favorite green shirt."

Smiling adoringly, Angie stroked her face, encouraging sleep. "Your things comfort me." The dark eyes fluttered and Angie softened her voice further, a low, soothing tone. "Knowing how they laid against your skin, took on your shape, your scent. Your silky underthings, his soft shirts, they're like an echo of your touches."

Angie could feel Steve's smile where he nuzzled into the back of her neck, could feel Peggy's mouth grow soft with sleep beneath the whisper of kisses. She reached back to tuck Steve's hips closer to her rear and snuggled down into Peggy's side, pressing her nose behind Peggy's ear.

Tonight, the loneliness was banished.


	24. Photos, or Drawn Out, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping a record of lives shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love Natasha's dynamic with her pack and this story was a perfect place to explore that.

Steve had learned to tolerate the endless technology around him now, even appreciated a great deal of it. But, when it came to pictures, he wanted something he could hold in his hands. Maybe it was that the digital medium looked exactly like television and the internet and all those other things that had various levels of realism he didn't like. Mixing up that sensation of not being real with his family agitated him on a deep, deep level. 

Even handing over a tiny little piece of plastic and gold the size of his fingernail felt odd, but that he could deal with. After all, was it any weirder than a phone half the size of a pack of cigarettes that could access the libraries of the world and so much more?

So, there were photographs, lots of them. Some, he kept in a casual hiding place where the worst thing that could happen is Grace found them and ruined them. Replacing was easy enough, thank goodness. But there were a whole collection he'd had Natasha rig up something secure for that held the photos not meant for anyone outside their dynamic of three plus one.

With that slight sense of a guilty thrill, he opened the little safe after going through the many steps to be verified by Natasha's system. In it was a fancy little box that looked like it should contain really expensive shoes or something. In it were photos. Lots and lots of photos. So many in fact, that Steve and his ladies had nearly ceased being self-conscious about asking Tony to print the things out. Sure, they could get a printer to do it for them, but he had better tech, frankly, and knew how to keep the pictures out of Jarvis' memory and out of Grace's hands. Because, really, that child was a chip off of Natasha's block, no matter how briefly they had known one another.

Most of the pictures were colorful tableaus across the skins of the women he adored. The warmly-tinted, lush curves and coffee-dark hair of Peggy, his first and greatest love, whose boneless relaxation under his ministrations often led to coherent pictures. Seascapes and cities, even a running pack of colorful dogs once when he was feeling whimsical. There were classical still-lifes and compositional studies, all on the canvas of her skin. Then there was Angie, his friend and anchor who had gradually become so much more. She was dynamic energy, even frozen in photos, he could almost see the movement of her. Forever restless, he never had much time with her skin in stillness and often the paint on her resembled the eye of a flower of the heart of a galaxy, calm and precise, with petals of chaotic color radiating out as he would catch her in motion, dabbing paint on her in passing. Other times, she was a mess of colors, a testament to spontaneity, of tickle fights and games of tag and rutting, sweaty sex. The changes to her small frame over time as the pregnancy had progressed, was just as fascinating. And had yet to really slow her down, despite being the size of a house. At least modern medicine had come to realize that being safely active was good for the expectant mom. The idea of trying to keep that livewire bedridden made even Natasha shudder.

A faint displacement of air and the sound of the front door startled him from memories and the half-erection that was hardly a surprise. For a moment, he was sorely disappointed by his solitude being disturbed until he realized there was barely a sound. With honed senses, he paid attention to the not-clues and grinned to himself.

"Hey Nat."

The poke to his ass still made him jump a bit, even as he was expecting it. After all, he was in her space, the canvas platform above the bedroom door rigged up for a safe place. But she'd made the decision to put the safe there, knowing that her sanctuary would be invaded sometimes and the rest of them took it as a sign of trust.

"Are you looking at your dirty pictures again?"

"Awww, gimmie a break, lady," he mock-whined. "How often do I get the chance?"

"Yeah, fair enough."

Quiet was so much a part of her that the sloppiness of her sounds of shedding things were a testament of comfort with her loved ones. For a moment, propriety protested his calling down to her, but he'd learned to ignore it.

"Come on up if you like."

"Sure, I'll be back in a few. I need a shower."

"Okay."

Natasha too, was featured in the collection, though not as liberally as the other two. Her small, lush frame hid the deadliness of her, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and there was a different tone to the paint on her pale, pale skin. With no sexual charge in her interactions with her pack, the energies were very different, for she was the purest canvas. He had always been able to focus most easily on the paint itself and she could enjoy the comfort of touch with no more expectation than simply being touched. He liked to play with patterns on her, violently contrasting colors and subtle themes not easily unraveled. And occasionally, he would just be silly, smearing childlike nonsense just to coax a smile.

The big hammock platform shimmied with impact and Natasha effortlessly slipped past the protective netting put in place for when Grace was allowed up.

"Hey pal," he greeted her quietly, noting the fleecy pants and Peggy's favorite sweatshirt too large on her smaller frame. Rough day then. Without making a big deal out of it, he shifted around so that she could curl up against his ribs, her damp head on his clavicle.

"That one is still my favorite," she said quietly, pointing to the picture he'd deliberately kept in his hand for her. It looked like a watery, out of focus rendition of a colorful park full of people and balloons. She'd been fascinated at the time, the damaged child in her completely caught up in the depiction of normalcy across her scars. 

"Mine too."

They quietly went through the collection, sometimes commenting on a favorite or sharing a chuckle over an associated memory. 

"Go on, pull the dirty stuff out, dork. Your little soldier's halfway there anyway."

The bluntness has ceased to shock Steve, though he still blushed because she was right.

"Okay, okay, sit up, dammit. I'll do laundry later."

Nat only chuckled at him, not unkindly and took the opportunity to stretch before collecting the photos of his various body paintings to be returned to the box. Steve yanked off his t-shirt and dropped it over his lap before jerking his fly open, much to the relief of his 'little soldier'. 

There was a second envelope, hidden below the loose photos, and these were his favorite gift from his beloved partner. For, while Natasha might not participate in the triad's carnal games, she was in the vicinity sometimes. And she had begun taking pictures of them almost immediately.

She also had a hell of an eye for it. 

When the triad had admired her skill, Nat had scoffed-- clearly pleased-- and remarked, "just because I don't want to play doesn't mean that I can't appreciate the spectacle." With that sort of attitude, the trio from the forties could hardly continue to be embarrassed, now could they?

The collection was entirely in black and white, a choice that had seemed strange at first, but somehow lent to the mix of past and present that Peggy, Angie and Steve were such a part of. The sexy pictures ran the dial from the ridiculous, like Angie posing like a cartoon pinup and making a horrible face, to the raunchy. Steve's absolute favorite was him arched into Peggy, every muscle taut, her fingernails raking dark marks into his back, thighs strong around his hips and her head throw back with unfettered laughter. It was the best of her, powerful and sweet and impossibly sexy. Another was Angie straddling him, their four hands cradling the bulge of the twins even as he remembered screwing slow and gentle. They'd forgotten about Natasha's presence as they often did while making love, laughing and making mock grabs at her when she snapped the photo. There were beautiful moments with only Peggy and Angie as well, from sweetly tender to biting kisses while pressed up against the wall.

"We're an active bunch, huh?" He wondered idly while stroking himself, half-distracted, and Nat just laughed.

Then photos of the three of them fooling around together were just as varied from the pretty straightforward-- given that there were three bodies involved-- to a few that made him blush with the memories. Plenty of his personal favorite, one or the other of his beloveds riding him while he was buried between the other's thighs. The memory of taste and sensation shot down to his groin, the hard spike of orgasm almost catching him by surprise. 

"Livewire," Natasha teased him affectionately while he caught his breath and wadded up his soiled shirt to be washed before buttoning up.

"They make me crazy in the best way."

Relaxed and half sleepy now, Steve idly watched Natasha skim through the rest of the pictures, humming over them in satisfaction or critique. A few times, she even persuaded her sexually-active packmates to pose a bit, though they'd been far more self-conscious about that, without the sensual distraction of fooling around. Nat thought they were hilarious. Despite that, there were some interesting images, made all the more interesting because of Steve's impossible strength making some of the poses even possible. He loved the several of Peggy and Angie perched on his curled arms, doing their best simpers for the camera. It was playful and sexy and brought back memories of the good times in the USO show. Angie had mocked his strongman pose, her slender muscles tense, smile wide. Peggy with her body curled into a sensual S, looking over her shoulder with come-hither eyes.

"Did I ever thank you for doing this?"

That got him a grin from Nat, and a playful elbow in the ribs. "Yes, and you're still welcome. It's nice to have a normal hobby. And I like the subjects."

He twisted to half jump on her for that, hugging her while she giggled, photos scattering to all corners of the hammock.

Steve wished he could have a photo of that exact moment too.


	25. Movie Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, the holidays got to me!

There had been no telling her 'no'. Angie had come busting into the big Riverdale house like a whirling dervish, snow flaking off of her like powdered sugar and her voice was exuberant. "Okay, grownups! Start preppin' your best glad rags, because we're goin' out tomorrow!"

Stripped of her winter layers, she'd waltzed in to scoop Gracie into a warm hug before grinning wildly at her parents. 

"I'm takin' you sexy people out on a date. You, me, we're goin' the movies!"

Luckily, Monday seemed to be complying with Angie's demands and the brutal weather had kept things quiet. Frankly, the Carters were thrilled to get out of the drafty office and away from the complaining of men and furnace alike. Steve had vanished for a few hours that afternoon after he'd realized he had no good clothes for a proper night out in the dead of winter and he carried the bags and boxes like treasures. 

In hopes that Grace would not pick up that the evening was different from any other, her trio of parents were determinedly relaxed and normal through some play time and a light meal before they nonchalantly shuffled her off to the Jarvises for the night. The habit begun when she was still very little had proven to be a wise one on Peggy's part. It made for less drama the nights when she might have to be unexpectedly handed off and she adored Anna and Edwin so. Then they quickly separated to get gussied up, Steve finishing first and making his way to the living room to wait. Luckily, he didn't have to stare into the fire for long, the busy 'click, click' of Angie's shoes approaching. 

"Hey there, Stallion."

It was a cute nickname because it made her blush saying it. They were still figuring one another out, intimacies a staggered progression as they grew more comfortable with one another as more than a friend and a warm body in the bed.

"You look gorgeous."

"Why thank you. Give a girl a hand?"

"Sure thing."

Before he could stand, Angie waved him down and handed off a delicate necklace before settling onto his knee. Taking the hint, Steve ignored her welcome warmth and leaned in close to drape the chain around her neck and fiddle with the tiny clasp. 

"So, did I ever tell you I met Frank Capra?"

Startled, Angie twisted to stare at Steve, nearly jerking the necklace from his fingers. "Really?"

"Sure thing. He liked the star appeal of Captain America, just like everyone did. He'd made a bunch of films for the troops-- and joined the Army ya know-- because he wanted the boys to really know why they were fightin' so far from home. However, he was one of the few that actually took a little time to get to know me and immediately dropped any ideas that might have been rattling around his head. It was me that insisted on a couple little shorts to keep the boys in good spirits with a some 'rah-rah-rah' speeches. It was rare that I didn't feel like I was being taken advantage of, so they were more heartfelt than usual."

Angie was listening quietly, but shuddered in distraction at the press of his soft mouth at the base of her neck where he'd connected the clasp. Getting to distracted now would only make them late though, and she really did want to see the movie.

"So you liked him then."

"I did. He was an outdoorsy kinda fella and energetic as hell, 'specially as he was kind of a small guy, but I got a special respect for small men. And he was older than me and had some good advice to try and stay sane in the spotlight. So, yeah, nice guy, particularly for bein' famous and winnin' three Academy Awards."

"I'm just a Jimmy Stewart fan."

They chuckled together and Angie twisted to plant a delicate kiss on Steve so as not to muss herself before they went to collect Peggy, hand in hand. 

Edwin soaked up Angie's hyperactive chatter about the movie they were off to see. More comfortable with the unusual dynamic of three now, she'd usurped Peggy's usual spot in the middle, too fascinated with her lovers to not want the center of their attentions. Steve was blissfully content with draping an arm around her and letting that hand slowly stroke Peggy's neck and drinking up her sly smile.

"Are you listenin'?"

Dutifully, Steve repeated back the last few things Angie had spouted off, word for word and she glowered harder at him.

"I don't know if you're mocking me or this is some super soldier trick."

He just kissed her temple and let the others chuckle at his expense. 

The Globe Theater held court on busy 46th Street, the crowds hardly dispersed by the cold and snow. Crowds in their finery lined up for a night at the movies in a fine old theater. 

"I've always wanted to come here," Angie gushed on as she huddled between her lovers. "But I never wanted ta shell out the clams! This is gonna be so great!"

Some of the stuffier folks in line looked unimpressed with Angie's enthusiasm, but ducked away from the flat stares of her taller companions. With tickets in hand, they entered the grandly decorated lobby and marveled like proper tourists.

"Wow," Steve said as he accepted the women's coats. "This trip would have been worth it just for the building! And we've still got a movie to watch."

The grand old theater herself rendered even Angie quiet, gawking around at the fine, decadent interior, the rows of round-shouldered seats, the elaborate bas-reliefs and the stage holding court before the red velvet curtain. The fresh-faced usher left them to settle in to their choice seats on the floor. Warm air blew up from vents beneath them, cutting the chill of the Christmas weather and tickling their legs. Angie leaned into the arm Steve casually threw around her shoulders, resting his fingers against Peggy's arm, while the women discretely held hands amidst the clutter of coats. They passed the time with people watching and giggling over their wild guesses about their fellow theater-goers until the house lights at last began to dim. 

A hush fell over the crowd as they were swept into the otherworld that was the movies. They were enticed by the grand sweep of the velvet curtain sweeping back to reveal the dim white square of the screen that blazed to bright life as the projector began to run. They ate up the images of the news reels, so much more vivid than the words only radio transmission more commonplace in their lives, laughed at Goofy's antics in the tradition cartoon and eagerly soaked up the introduction.

"I'm so glad I'm here," Angie whispered excitedly and forgot herself by nearly rubbing her head up against Peggy. At the last second, she reversed direction to Steve's shoulder, but squeezed Peggy's hand, enjoying the brush of lacquered nails against her knee. Steve moved his arm to rest beside him and Angie imperiously took over his hands so that all of their fingers could intertwine in her warm lap.

Like that they watch the tale of broken George Bailey find himself once more, with a little help from the Heavenly Hosts. They hurt along with the suffering George and his sleepy little community of Bedford Falls, and cringed as his low points splashed across the screen. They quietly disliked greedy ol' Potter and wallowed in the relief and joy of a miracle second chance. It was a real bang up of a film and they loved it, but were exhausted by the time 'The End' blazed across the screen.

Angie sighed enormously as the crowd stirred to life around them. "That was great."

"It was, dar…" Peggy swallowed down the familiar endearment and made a little face about it as she wearily stood and offered Angie a helping hand. Steve rescued their pile of coats from sliding to the floor and herded the women towards the aisle along with all the other traffic. By the time the chill was reaching icy fingers for them, they'd managed to get into their coats, but quickly stepped out of traffic to get their heads covered up.

"We're never gonna get a cab in this crush," Angie said wisely as she stretched like a cat and covered her head up with a warm scarf. "I vote we walk a couple blocks towards downtown until we can hail one."

Peggy flashed a questioning look to the other New Yorker of the party and he nodded resignedly. "Yeah, she's dead on."

A good part of the crowd clearly had the same idea and they all continued to move in a solid mass. Almost immediately, the frozen, snowy sidewalk was a treacherous minefield, Steve's quick reflexes saved several people within his arm's reach from a nasty fall.

"Drat these shoes," Peggy grumbled as she tottered unevenly for a mere moment. "I miss my army boots."

She didn't mind the several chuckles that echoed her words.

In time, the trio at last caught a cab and settled in this time with Steve in the center to be used as a pillow for his ladies' heads. Though he was perfectly content to shoo Angie out and follow while Peggy settled the bill. His tires chirped a bit as he swung around to return to the taller buildings to the south.

"What's his problem?"

"His lousy tip," Peggy drawled in a dead-on Bronx accent before returned to her smooth accent. "If he insists on being a pig about accepting money from a lady, it serves him right."

"Seems fair to me."

They only paused long enough in the foyer for the soldiers to cast out sensitive senses to the state of the familiar, sprawling mansion, but felt no disturbances in her peace. So they stripped coats there, and clothes in the big master bedroom, Steve sprawling out in little but his shorts while the women washed off makeup and sleepily went through the familiar motions of hair prep for the next day. But Steve did not sleep, lonely without them and unable to fully relax until their softness and warmth draped all over him.

"I wanted ta end the night with some foolin' around," Angie murmured and drank up their sleepy chuckles.

"Tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow."

And with sleep-thick promises of love and devotion, they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found my information here.  
> The Globe Theater: http://jerrygarciasbrokendownpalaces.blogspot.com/2012/06/lunt-fontanne-theater-205-west-42nd.html   
> 'It's a Wonder Life': https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It%27s_a_Wonderful_Life and http://www.film.com/movies/whats-the-big-deal-its-a-wonderful-life-1946


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